


If they knew (what would they say?)

by The_reading_type_writer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Biphobia, Coming Out, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Multi, POV Draco Malfoy, Panic Attacks, Pining, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Secrets, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Trans Harry Potter, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 41,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24841900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_reading_type_writer/pseuds/The_reading_type_writer
Summary: Draco Malfoy  is hiding in the muggle world.Hiding from his family and former friends, hiding from the memories, hiding from the guilt.When he spontaneously decides to go to the party of the century, he has no idea, how much a single celebration can change…
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	1. One his own

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Pride Month! 
> 
> Not all of the Tags apply for the first chapter, but they will apply for the following chapters, so... stay tuned.  
> I might add some tags when I post new chapters.  
> If I forget to tag something, please tell me. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading, hope you enjoy!

It was the party of the century. Everybody said so and of course they were right.  
For the first time in years wizards and witches from all the world had gathered to celebrate. Ironically it was for the same reason as last time: Voldemort was gone because of Harry Potter.  
Draco smiled, while searching his room for a clean shirt.  
Three minutes ago he had decided, he would be there. In a few minutes he would leave his untidy flat and start off.  
\- To the party, to Hogwarts, to.... well, to a place that would be crowded with people who still hated his whole family. No huge surprise, considering the Great Battle of Hogwarts had happened only four weeks ago. If there had been invitations to the party, nobody would have sent one to him. But, unfortunately for them, the announcement in the Daily Prophet claimed, everyone who wanted to meet his or her heroes and was prepared to dance was welcome.  
He wouldn't stay long anyway. Just long enough to make sure everyone was okay.  
Maybe he could even manage to do that without being seen at all.  
After having spent a month amongst muggles, he was terribly bored. Anything was better than that. _Be careful, Malfoy! You almost think like a Gryffindor! Only looking for great adventures, aren't you?_  
Oh well, ... at least he had finally found something to wear.  
Muggle clothes were surprisingly comfortable. Even this stupid suit. Magic helped with that, of course.  
After leaving his former home, he had found himself in a foreign world where magic didn't exist, and nobody knew his name. To his own surprise, he liked it. Nobody questioned his loyalty, threatened to kill him or commented on his weaknesses. Most of the muggles just minded their own business. Of course magic helped with that, as well, but he didn't have to use it half as much as he had expected.  
He had no idea, where any of his former friends and relatives had gone to. Probably murdering muggles again. They could hardly be called creative.

*

Draco spent the first half of the party with the painful realization that some things never changed:  
It was still impossible to apparate on the grounds of Hogwarts.  
The portraits still made him feel uncomfortable.  
Despite his best efforts he still was the elegant odd one out. - Even though he stayed in the shadows, not dancing, not talking, not even moving.

A band he didn't know performed songs he had never heard before. Colourful dresses danced with colourful robes. Between those butterflies and flowers moved a patch of bright yellow. Luna. Somehow he missed her. _Yeah, crazy, awkward,_ passionate, friendly, creative _and an awful dancer_. For a few seconds he considered saying hi. She probably wouldn't even mind. Luna was a great listener and might be willing to give him a second – well, a twenty-third chance.  
He probably didn't deserve it. Besides... she looked much too happy to be bothered.

A new song started and suddenly he coudn't see anything but dark figures moving through silver and purple wafts of mist. Blue lights flashed in a fast rhythm. He tasted smoke and forced himself to breathe, when his lungs started to hurt. The band's lead singer performed a little dance before singing: „Kill the killers, bewitch the wicked, spells for freedom, spells for freedom “  
Couples moved to the darker parts of the Great Hall. Fingers intertwined, mouths moved on mouths and bodies pressed against bodies.  
Draco felt sick.  
„This is magic, this is justice, kill Death Eaters – spells for freedom “

Too warm, too crowded, people everywhere.  
Blurred figures moved ecstatically.

Did they see him?  
Black spots danced in front of his eyes.  
They'd kill him.  
Hastily he moved through the crowd, face to the ground, murmuring apologies, while the song went on and on and on.  
Outside.  
He heard his breath, too fast, panicking.  
They'd get him.  
Danger, danger, danger, danger, danger.  
_Drama queen. Always so emotional._  
He ran on, into the darkness, till he reached the lake.  
_Pathetic, idiotic, worthless._  
His knees buckled, his body crashed on the grass.  
_You are an egoist. Everyone knows. But you can't even save yourself_  
He pressed his wrists against his temples. Breathe, just breathe.  
_Nobody could ever love you._  
You are save, nobody will harm you, calm down.  
Except many Death Eaters would love to harm him now. Living in a muggle village?  
_Disapointing. Weak._  
No, calm down. You can do it.

He willed his body to sit, his arms resting on his knees. While he tried to steady his breathing, he attempted to find a dessert for every letter of the alphabet.  
Breathing in.  
Apple crumble.  
Breathing out.  
Biscuit.  
He scented the familiar smell of the lake, felt the soft grass brush over his fingertips.  
Chocolate.  
He liked chocolate.  
Donuts.  
E....  
He couldn't think of anything starting with an E.  
_You can't think at all, can you?!_  
Skip it.  
_So arrogant, so desperate._  
Just go on.  
Breathe.  
Fairy Cake.  
Gingerbread.  
Honey.  
_That's not a dessert._  
That's unimportant.  
Go on.  
Ice creme.  
So many flavours, it almost deserved to get an alphabet-list on itself...

When he had reached S and instantly thought of shortbread, he almost felt normal.  
Now, that the adrenaline had worn off, he only wanted to get back to his flat and sleep.  
He stumbled to his feet and started walking towards the border.  
His hands still felt a little numb, but that was normal after...

He heard voices behind him. Laughter.  
Just a group of kids, judging by the noises.  
He turned around. It was too dark to see them.  
Just some kids having fun. Nothing unusual in Hogwarts.  
A loud noise. Flashes of light.  
They are kids. Probably just trying out a new invention by the Weaselys.  
Still...  
The adrenaline was back.  
He started to run.


	2. Two share a secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains:  
> \- Draco beeing awkward  
> \- Harry beeing honest  
> \- a lot of talking about a great-aunt, who apparently isn't a very nice person

Maybe he had lost his mind.   
No. He was fine. At least okay.   
Then again he was running and panicking for the second time this evening...   
Which sane person would behave like that?   
And how likely was it, to end up near water twice – without being able to see anything?!   
At least it wasn't the lake again. He really didn't want to go round in circles.   
A gigantic glowing fountain rose in front of him. The statue of a young man with tousled hair who was raising his wand stood on a rock above the statues of a witch, a wizard, two house-elves, a dragon, a lion, a snake, a badger, an eagle, a wolf and a big dog.   
Draco remembered reading about the fountain in the Daily Prophet. It had been a present by the Ministry of Magic. Harry Potter among the four house animals and symbols of his loved ones. Well… the dragon represented his victories. Harry Potter the dragon slayer.  
Speaking of Harry Potter... he was there, sitting on the rim of the fountain, watching the witch and the wizard dance.   
He looked so calm, so confident, the perfect Mister Potter, just as always.   
_He_ certainly had never trouble to fall asleep. No nightmares, no irrational panic after hearing a few kids play...

„Already tired of being celebrated, Potter?“, Draco exclaimed, already wishing, he had stayed quiet. The jealousy in his words was far too apparent.   
Slowly Potter turned around, his face in the shadow. Surprisingly he didn't even rise his wand. Too arrogant, to even try to disarm him? Kind of lazy, really. By now, Draco could have already killed him twice without him even noticing.   
„Cat got your tongue? Or did anyone dare to curse the big important boy who lived?“, Draco deadpanned.   
Of couse the latter was impossible. But... well, he certainly was worryingly quiet, so... What? No. No, Draco Malfoy wasn't worried for Harry. Draco was no complex person. He was the stereotypical schoolyard-bully who couldn't keep his mouth shut and everybody knew that much. _You are supposed to be evil, Malfoy._

Somewhere someone had started a magical firework. The darkness of the night vanished, when red and golden stars exploded in the sky. A lion out of fire turned into a flash that turned into a wand next to a pair of glassed that turned into...   
Draco tried to focus on Potter instead. Moving pictures in the sky? Bad memories...   
„They probably already started looking for you“ Still no response. Draco sighed. „Yeah, well, just keep ignoring me, doesn't bother me at all, I get it“ Why, oh why did he have to say it?! Inwardly cringing, he turned to leave. Disapparating still wasn't possible here, after all. Would have been a lot more elegant, for sure. _As if being elegant was an option for a coward like you._

„Sorry“ Draco flinched. He had to be hallucinating. Potter talked?! To him?   
„Sorry, I don't feel like fighting, just try later, okay?“, Potter repeated.   
Of course he could do that. The chosen one didn't feel like it, so who was he to question that?!   
But Harry sounded a bit too defensive and a little too much like he was crying. Which was not a good place to be in. Draco would know. He had spent far too many years at Hogwarts, crying himself to sleep, crying over being in danger and crying for no reason at all. It did something to one's voice, made it rougher. Even though it didn't make any sense at all, Harry Potter was crying! And maybe, just maybe, Draco cared. _No you don't. You aren't allowed to._

It only took three steps to reach him. Shivering, weak Potter, who wasn't calm at all, who was so... cute?! _No, try again Malfoy. Potter is the enemy._ The enemy... of whom?   
Silently, he sat down next to him, just far enough away, to make sure, their legs didn't touch.   
„I really don't want to fight, Malfoy, I meant it“ Draco could see the spots on Harry's trousers where the tears had wet the fabric. Dark green spots on green. Exactly the colour of his eyes. _Stop it, Malfoy._  
„Guess what, Potter? I. Don't. Care.“ Harry's eyes burnt in his. On second thought, this was not quite the colour of the trousers... They were a little brighter behind these stupid glasses, shining and a bit cat- like.   
„I have already enough bad stuff to think about without you.“ Well, that stung. He was still facing Potter, so it should have been easy to bury all feelings under his hatred. Except he didn't feel that way. Hurt? Yes. Disappointed? Definitely. What was wrong with him?! _A disgrace for your family._  
„Just stop it Potter. Honestly! You just killed the Dark Lord. Even if nobody needs a big hero anymore, you'll be alright. I mean, you still are the chosen one. The Boy Who Lived. The amazing, wonderful wizard who might never die! You are Harry Potter“ _Don't you dare thinking about him that way! Disgusting._  
Harry winced. Well, understandable, Draco couldn't remember if he had ever been that honest or friendly to him, although...   
„I'm not“ It was hardly more than a little whisper. At first, Draco wasn't even sure, if Harry really had said anything at all. Then... „That's not who I am“   
Some when in between, the fireworks had died down. It was too dark, to search the other's face for the truth. Clearly he couldn't mean that.   
Could he?   
„Polyjuice Potion?“ Draco knew, how unlikely that was. Even though Harry didn't know about that, it usually was easy to tell, if it was him. At least for a highly intelligent Slytherin who couldn't stop thinking about him. _Already annoying and useless back then._ He even had noticed it back then, when Harry and someone else had tried to impersonate two of his friends in their second year at Hogwarts. Even though this person wasn't as stoic as usual, it really felt like Potter.   
„The first time we met wasn't in the train or in Hogwarts. It's me“, the other claimed.   
Maybe Draco wasn't the only one who could remember...   
So many memories...  
„So what do you mean by _that's not who I am_? Who may I congratulate for partially wiping out your memories? Everyone at that party would tell you the same thing. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. The greatest hero of our century! This really is not the best time to start doubting yourself!“ _Bad job, boy. Feelings? How ridiculous._  
Potters lips moved. Did he... smile? A bit crooked maybe. Damn darkness. But this really wasn't the time to cast a spell. After all, he was marked as a Death Eater. Potter might curse him the second, he'd rise his wand.   
„It is hard to explain“, Potter said flatly.   
„No it isn't. If you aren't the Boy Who Lived, who are you?“   
„I don't know“ There was something in Potter's voice, something hopeful and something that sounded like he was about to open up.   
Draco waited. Sometimes, if one only waited long enough, people started talking. Which certainly was a better method than just torturing them.   
„I guess...“   
It seemed to work. Suddenly he felt a bit sick. Potter was supposed to be a brave, spontaneous, reckless Gryffindor. This shoudn't take that long.   
„Well... I know that might sound strange and somehow it is and... just please, don't talk about it. To anyone. It is a secret“   
Draco winced. What was that all about?! Hell, whatever.   
„I promise. Don't worry, there aren't many people left who would talk to me anyway“, Draco said. He meant it. 

Harry nodded. „'kay. I am... I feel like... I am not the Boy Who Lived. It's... the Girl Who Lived.“  
For a second, Draco was stunned. There was an echo in his brain, Harrys voice, Harrys eyes, the little tilt of Harry's head and... the Girl Who Lived. The Girl Who Lived. The Girl...  
„What?“ He felt hysterical laughter rise up in his chest. Harry Potter, the girl... That was... hilarious! 

„I... just forget about it, okay? It was wrong to tell you“, Potter exclaimed, standing up. He... she... looked terribly distressed. Draco just managed to catch her arm.   
„I'm sorry, Potter, just give me a second. I wasn't mentally prepared for that kind of a revelation“ Draco felt like his head was about to explode. At least she didn't go away. Maybe, _maybe_ he could somehow save this mess of a reaction. _Just imagine beeing able to say the right thing at the right time! Must feel amazing... Not that you would know! No tact, no attitude whatsoever!_  
Both sat down again.   
With ever passing second, Draco felt more guilty. Poor Potter. He just didn't know, what to say. After what felt like an eternity he continued: „Okay... I guess, I got it. So... It is Miss Potter now?“  
Potter nodded and shrugged at the same time. “Please don't use now in that context. I mean, I have always been Miss Potter. This isn't something new, only because I just told you. I am still the same person”   
_You really can't talk without making mistakes, can you?!_  
Draco tried to hide his emotions. No need to make Harry even more uncomfortable.   
„Sorry, you're right. Er... what about your first name? Please tell me, it isn't Harriet“, he blurted out.   
Harry winced. Gosh... he felt terrible. Why had nobody ever bothered to teach him how to behave in that kind of situations? _Don't blame anyone else! Coward. Your family taught you everything you need to know!_  
„What's wrong with Harriet?“, Potter asked politely.   
„It's the name of a really terrible aunt of my father, who... never mind. Oh my god, you chose Harriet! I can't believe it! No!“   
Potter... chuckled. „I haven't decided yet“   
Draco faked a relieved smile, that turned real - till he started thinking again.   
„So your friends still use Harry?“ Harry nodded. „Isn't that, I don't know, a little awkward? I mean no offense, but... sorry, I'm really messing this up – er, well how did they react?“, Draco rambled. He knew, he was trying too hard. If only Potter could tell him, he wasn't the only one to behave that badly... There was absolutely nothing wrong with being trans and Harry was... actually pretty... nice. So why had everything he said been so jumbled and terrible?! He wasn't like Harry's friends. They for sure had reacted perfectly accepting and warm...  
„They don't know, Draco. I have never told any of them“   
„But...“ Draco. He had called him Draco. _And in your mind you keep calling him Harry. It doesn't mean anything at all._ Still... He repressed his urge to smile or hug something. „But why didn't you... You are seventeen years old, how did you never tell anyone?“   
Harry seemed to blush. Which was adorable, by the way. _You're asking really intimate questions. Of course he is embarrassed._  
„Sorry, but I'd rather not talk about that. Maybe we could just... switch over to a different topic” Draco caught himself nodding like a madman. “Yes, of course, no problem... what would you like to talk about?”, he stuttered.   
“Maybe you could tell me more about your terrible great-aunt Harriet?”, Harry proposed.   
For the first time in his life, Draco felt relieved at the thought of talking about his family.   
Even though Harry certainly just wanted to avoid uncomfortable topics, he knew she'd listen.  
So he started telling her all those little stories.   
At first it felt strange, but after a while he started to like it. Her green eyes that never stopped looking interested and amused, the tiny smile that widened when he told her about _the swan incident_ , the soft noises she made whenever something surprising happened in one of the stories. For once he could stop thinking.   
It was sensational. 

Somewhere voices started to cry out Harry's name.   
„Only a question of time, wasn't it?“, Draco commented dryly.   
„Well... I...“ Harry seemed to hesitate.   
„Hey, you really should go, before they find us. I won't tell anyone“  
Suddenly he found himself in the warmest hug, he had ever received. A gentle hand brushed through his hair. He could hear her breathe against his chest.   
For a moment he wasn't Draco Malfoy anymore, son of a Death Eater, nephew of a Death Eater and a Death Eater himself.   
He was just another touch-starved teenager in the arms of his crush.  
And when she let him go with a small smile and asked him, if they could meet again soon and he said „of course“ without thinking about it and she left to go back to the party, it hit him. 

Oh my... he was in love with Harry Potter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.  
> Feel free to comment!


	3. As three as a bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains Draco…  
> \- … thinking a lot  
> \- … beeing an insomniac  
> \- … making a decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: A flashback to and Draco's thoughts on a certain bathroom scene in the sixth Harry Potter book / film.  
> It's rather motives and thoughts than graphic imagery, but it gets pretty dark.  
> If you want to skip it: it is between the first * and the third *

After everything that had happened, Draco should have fallen asleep immediately. He had tried to; since the moment he had undressed after stumbling into his flat like a drunk three hours ago. Three hours?   
It was four a.m. and sleeping was impossible.   
He was lying in his bed, starring at the ceiling. He hadn't turned the lights on, but he could still see it. The room had a bluish tint, just like the world outside, just like the aforementioned ceiling. 

He tried to remember every little detail about his conversation with Harry. The way, she moved, the sound of her voice, her smell, the feeling of her body embracing him, her chest pressed against his, her hand in his hair,... _Sentimental little sap!_  
Some details had already vanished from his memory. He wasn't sure, what kind of a suit she had worn (though he still remembered its colour), how much time they had spent bantering before she had opened up, or even what exactly he was feeling when she was looking at him.   
Wasn't it devastating to imagine how much he would forget, how much his memories would change?   
Of course there were magical ways to relive memories, but that wasn't the point. How could he remember so many things he'd rather forget and forget so many things he ached to remember? 

04:28 a.m.   
Draco startet writing a letter to Luna.   
He tried to explain what had happened, appologized in every way he could think of and begged her for a meeting. He felt like he poured his heart into every line and even remembered to keep his handwriting plain and readable. 

05:07 a.m.   
He burned it and promised himself to never write a letter again. 

05:51 a.m.   
He started writing a new letter to Luna, but didn't manage to write more than ten words, till he got frustrated and burned this one as well.   
Afterwards he kept starring at the tiny pile of ashes on his blanket.   
He made it vanish with a small flick of his wand.   
Gosh, he really should be sleeping.

06:24 a.m.   
He finally fell asleep. 

*

_He was crying._  
_He had failed._  
_They would punish him._  
_Crutio._  
_Imperio._  
_Avada Kedavra._  
_Crutio. Physical pain till he'd lose his mind. His aunt liked to brag about all the great wizards she had transformed into apathetic bodies by using this curse._  
_Imperio. Making him do terrible or degrading things till he'd lose his mind. Some Death Eaters liked to play games. They liked to watch their victims torture and kill each other. Especially when the victims were related. Draco had never been there. But he had heard the screams when those who had survived, woke up. He had seen how broken they were. They usually begged for mercy - death._  
_Avada Kedavra. Killing him, fast, probably even painless. The only one who had ever survived this curse had been protected by love. Nobody had ever loved him in that way._

_He didn't want to lose his mind._  
_He didn't want to die._

_Suddenly he heard someone enter the bathroom._  
_Potter._

*

He woke up, panting, his sweaty fringe clutched to his forehead.   
_If you're vulnearable, people will hurt you - stay strong and hurt them instead!_  
Stop it!  
_You don't want to be a weak little disgrace, do you?_  
I don't want to hurt anyone.   
Instinctively his hands moved under his shirt, fingers brushing over healed cuts, tracing the scars. Curse wounds were almost impossible to get rid of. Those on his chest weren't an exception. Over time they had paled, but he would always have a reminder of that day carved into his skin. Into his skin and into his psyche – Somehow this moment still was one of his most common nightmares. Even though it was a memory.

Potter had accidentally tried to kill him in sixth year. _Too weak to stop her._ He remembered the hatered he had felt. But he had never been able to hate her the way his father - and later the Dark Lord - wanted him to.   
_Maybe that's because you wanted her to hurt you._ He welcomed the thought like an old ill-mannered friend. Maybe, he admited silently. He had been feeling so guilty, already back then. Even though he had believed in his mission. _Unable to handle a little pressure, such an angsty teenage-boy._ Bleeding to death on the floor of a bathroom even sounded a little like suicide. 

Had he tried to use her? As his executioner?   
What did that say about him?  
Was he doing it again right now? Trying to get hurt, because deep down he felt that he didn't deserve any better?   
But he hadn't wanted to die, not really. _She_ had tried to kill him!  
And she had almost succeeded in doing that.   
Which meant, he had to be incredibly stupid for wanting to be with her... 

Draco didn't feel stupid.   
Only tired.   
Which possibly meant, he was either self-destructive or self-decepting... _or both_.  
His thoughts were spinning out of control. 

He tried to go back to sleep. 

*

 **Bang.**

Draco moved without thinking, grabbing his wand from the nightstand, rolling out of his bed under the table. 

**Bang.**

He rose his wand. Of course they had to come now that he for once had slept without having a nightmare. Anyway, he was awake now and more than willing to fight for his life. 

**Bang.**

He moved carefully while thinking about the eventual weak spots of his flat. Since he had moved in, he had been preparing for this day. It was impossible to apparate inside. He had made sure that nobody could destroy the door, the walls or the windows. Had he retouched the usual spells on the door?   
Hold on... they weren't at the door.   
He rushed to the window, ready to curse anyone who threatened his life, even if they once had been his family... – 

A bird.   
A big black crow with a letter, but still. No threat. Just a message.   
After looking outside for a solid minute, he opened the window.

At first the bird was quite unwilling to hand him the envelope. Maybe it was offended because of the delay. It flew through the room, almost colided with the lamp and only started to calm down, when Draco offered it a piece of toast. He honestly didn't mind. Even when the bird finally started resting on the hall-stand, the wizard didn't open the letter.  
He had reached his maximum capacity for coping with new things the moment that bird had entered his room. A part of his brain still expected it to be an animagus and waited for an attack.   
_Almost at the Mad-Eye-Moody level of paranoia, aren't you?_  
He really needed a cup of tea before he could deal with anything new. 

**Draco,**  
**Hope, you're okay.**  
**I guess, we have a lot to talk about.**  
**Can we meet at 5 o' clock at Sally's? (That's a muggle café close to the entrance of the Diagon Alley in London)**  
**You can give your reply to the crow, it knows where to find me.**  
**See you soon,**  
**HP**

There were far too many reasons, why that was a bad idea...:   
Firstly, Draco had never been to a muggle café in his life. He didn't even know, what kind of behaviour or clothing were expected at those places. He definitely would make mistakes.   
Secondly, meeting close to the Diagon Alley might as well lead to hateful glances and probably even rumours. Especially if he was seen in the company of Harry Potter.   
Thirdly, he also tended to behave tactless and... well, just plain stupidly, whenever he met Harry,... And fourthly, their blossoming friendship (if one could already call it that) was just a small note compared to hundreds of pages of hatred, fights and complicated feelings...   
Then again he had so many questions.   
To be perfectly honest, he wanted to see her again. Something about her company had calmed him down yesterday. He loathed that feeling.   
So, what could go wrong?! _You mean, apart from all the things you imagined five seconds ago?!_

**Harry,**  
**I will be there.**  
**Draco**

He smiled, as he put his message into a new envelope and gave it to the crow. 

At least he was used to beeing in dangerous and complicated situations. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed; feel free to comment


	4. Waiting fourever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter contains…  
> \- Larry's talkative wife  
> \- three pieces of apple crumble  
> \- a revelation

To his great surprise, the café was almost empty.   
A group of old men was playing a game of cards. Even though they were playing without moving pictures, small explosions and disappearing cards, they seemed to be very concentrated on their game. At least they didn't seem to be bothered by the only other guest, a middle-aged woman, who kept yelling into a rectangular object, before turning around and rushing outside.   
Harry wasn't there, but as Draco was ridiculously early, that wasn't too surprising.

"Come in, dear", the visibly exhausted waitress said, "Where would you like to sit?"   
He chose a random place from which he could watch the door.   
The waitress flashed him a smile and brought him a menu, while she kept talking about the weather, the strange new fashion of wearing colourful robes and the unusual amount of owl-sightings. "... and I keep telling Larry – that's my husband – that all of this has already happened before. _It must be almost seventeen years ago, Larry,_ I say _, but I am sure. Something strange is going on._ Can you imagine his reply? _I really don't understand, why this is upsetting you that much!_ Unbelievable, isn't it? Well, anyway, I like birds and this kind of behaviour is very untypical for them, so..."   
"I like birds as well", Draco said, "Would you mind, if I ordered a little later? I'd like to wait for a friend"   
She smiled again and luckily backed off to ask the men if they wanted more tea. 

Just when he had started worrying, she might have forgotten about their meeting, Harry came in.   
He saw her talk to the waitress at the counter, before she came over.   
"I have ordered some tea and apple crumble!", she said, "I hope that's okay?"   
Draco nodded.   
Why was she looking so expectant? _You're probably making a huge mistake right now._  
Suddenly he remembered, he hadn't greeted her and quickly stood up.  
Should he hug her? He knew, that some friends did that... Or would that overstep some kind of a boundary? Would it be weird to ask her?  
Without hesitating, Harry took a seat on the other side of the table.  
"Hi", Draco mumbled, before sitting down as well.   
"I'm glad, you came", Harry said. She was much more simply dressed than yesterday. A pair of black jeans, a green blouse. He had never seen her in... feminine clothing, but it suited her.   
"Yeah well,... I do have a lot of questions, so..." Was he too pushy?   
Nervously he tried to read her face. He only saw excitement, a radiant smile and beautiful green eyes. - Wait, what?   
"I guess, I have a lot of answers", she replied, "But not right now" 

While he was still trying to figure out, what she meant, the waitress returned with a teapot, three cups and three pieces of cake.   
Three?   
"I've got a surprise for you", Harry said, as soon as the waitress went back to the counter.  
Draco tried to hide his shaking hands under the table. He hated surprises.   
Knowing Harry, she hadn't even properly thought it through. 

A blonde figure appeared in the doorframe.   
"Hello", Luna said cheerfully, "It's so nice to see you"   
Draco felt too perplexed to talk.   
"Yeah", Harry answered, "Draco and I were just talking about back then" Liar.  
"Fascinating", Luna replied, while taking a seat on the empty chair next to Harry.   
_She wasn't talking to you, Malfoy! Of course she doesn't like to see you! Don't you remember?!_

Why had Harry said, this was a surprise for him? Was this some kind of a punishment?   
_You deserve worse._  
Draco gulped. 

*

_"Fascinating", Luna whispered, "So nobody knew why you weren't allowed to go there?"_  
_Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm sure, my father suspected something, but he wouldn't talk about it. It still frustrates me, how often that happens"_  
_Since Luna and he had started to become friends, he had asked his father about the chamber of secrets, whenever he could. This morning, he had finally received a reply._  
**_Draco. As I already told you, this is none of your business. Stop wasting my time!_ **  
_He tried to bite back the tears._  
_Her hand settled on his shoulder, but he didn't turn around. She never asked questions related to his family, but she certainly had a few theories._  
_Luna, the queen of theorizing._

_Their friendship had begun shortly after the chamber of secrets had been opened. In order to find the true heir of Slytherin, he had been talking to a lot of students. Most of them hadn't got a clue or just blamed Potter. Not so Luna: She had some of the best – and most creative – theories and regularly came up with new ideas._  
_Soon they had started to talk about other topics than just the heir of Slytherin and became secret best friends. Even though she wasn't a Slytherin. Even though she was a year younger than him._  
_He liked her._  
_"My dad thinks; Dumbledore was coaching an army of goblins last year"_ _Well... some of her theories were highly unlikely. At least they always felt more interesting, than his own problems – and they never failed to make him smile. "You believe, Dumbledore was teaching a group of goblins how to fight? In the third floor?! Next to a gigantic dog and a trapdoor." "Why not", Luna replied with a dreamy smile, "They could have used the traps for training. Protecting a very valuable stone would also make an excellent cover-up for all the safety-measurements a secret army would need. Because Dumbledore's project certainly would have to stay a secret. The ministry hates goblins..."_

*

"Draco? Is everything all right?"   
Harry's face was only a few inches away.   
So close, he could almost...- _Stop projecting your boring little dreams! You're just not worthy of positive emotions!_

He felt his body tense up.   
"Sorry", Draco mumbled.   
"It's okay", Luna replied, "But you might have a Wrackspurt"   
How could she even bear to talk to him after everything that had happened?   
Draco flinched. "No, really, I'm fine. I just remembered something"   
"That _could_ be a symptom" Luna sounded much too excited for this possibility.   
Instead of arguing, he started eating his piece of apple crumble. To his relief, the other two did the same thing.  
_If you were brave, you wouldn't try to avoid every conversation._ If I was brave, I had been in Gryffindor. _Slytherins can be brave too. But you can't help being disappointing, can you?_  
"The crumble is really good", Luna said in the vague direction of the waitress. "Just the right thing to celebrate, isn't it?", she added more quietly.   
Draco almost choked.   
Had Harry come out to Luna?   
Or was she just talking about meeting again?   
Harry made a strange noise and stopped eating. Her smile had been replaced by a slight frown. _You make her uncomfortable!_  
But didn't he deserve to know, as well?   
"Sorry, but what exactly are we celebrating right now?", Draco asked as calmly as he could.   
"Come on, it was on the front page of today's Daily Prophet" Luna's voice was all excitement.   
He vaguely remembered seeing a few pictures of yesterday's party before burning the newspaper. Watching the smiling faces of the band members turn into a pile of ashes had been a heartfelt moment. Even though he couldn't blame them for his reaction to their song... He couldn't even blame them for hating Death Eaters... _You are a Death Eater yourself, Malfoy! So much self-hatred in such a fragile body..._  
He vaguely shook his head.   
"You must be the only wizard in all of England who hasn't heard about it!", Luna exclaimed.   
Draco sighed. "Just tell me, okay?"

He saw Harry's lips tremble with emotions he couldn't classify.  
Luna flashed him her brightest smile.

"You won't believe it! They started writing Harry's biographies! One book about each of his years at Hogwarts and one about his final victory against Voldemort. They're even considering to sell them to muggles as well" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed.  
> Feel free to comment!


	5. A surfiver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter contains...  
> \- a few revelations  
> \- a few reactions  
> \- a special room in Grimmauld Place 12

Draco had been told stories about Harry Potter from childhood.

When he was only a toddler, his nanny had told him about another toddler who had already beaten the Dark Lord and would undoubtedly become the most powerful wizard of his generation. The other boy, so she said, was called The Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived or simply Harry Potter. Draco started dreaming of being _Hawy's_ best friend and companion, of going on adventures together where he would safe his hero and become a hero himself.

Shortly after he told his parents about the dragon Hawy and he would tame, his nanny was dismissed and his father told him to stop dreaming.

From her first year in Hogwarts on, new tales about Potter were told.

Some were mere rumours, some very exaggerated. Strangely enough, the most unbelievable stories were the truest. Though he had never become a very active part of those stories, he probably knew most of them.

Yes... Draco could see, why someone would write about Harry. _Jealous, Malfoy?_

Hang on – did the author know, Harry was a girl? Would they out her? Or unknowingly write about a boy who actually never had existed?

He took in Harry's pained expression, her shaking hands and the way she avoided his gaze.

Stop thinking! Act normal! Don't let Luna see it!

"Seven books! That's excessive. Sure, you aren't the author, Lovegood?" _Never heard of being subtil, have you?_

Luna grinned. "Quite sure, I'm afraid. It's a pitty, isn't it?"

Distract her!

"Don't worry. You can still write a book about your Hogwarts theories. - You know, about the Wrackspurts that live in Professor Binns' classroom, the hidden secret chambers of Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw and the undeniable fact that the bathrooms are cursed."

He discretely looked at Harry. She had relaxed a little and was hastily drinking her tea, probably in order to be able to leave soon. He decided to give her some more time and settled on discussing theories with Luna.

She had a few new ones and kept interrupting herself with random observations, almost like back then. To his great relief, Harry didn't stay quiet all the time. She made a few remarks, though she certainly was more of a silent observer.

Surprisingly, the conversation only ended, when Luna said, she had to go home and prepare dinner. It was almost six o' clock p.m. After paying for all of them – she insisted upon doing so -, she hurried to the Diagon Alley, from where she could disapparate safely.

"She seems to be much happier than I remember her to be", Draco remarked, while Harry and he slowly left the café. "Yeah, she smiles more since she started dating Neville" Harry gave him a quick glance, as if she suspected him to react negatively. _Just another one waiting to be disappointed._

"Longbottom and Lovegood? I guess, that could work out. I mean I don't know him very well, but I heard he has a strong interest in herbology and she likes zoology, so they might complement each other" He could almost see the two of them, taking long walks in the nature, discovering new species, saving plants and creatures from getting extinct.

Harry chuckled. "What?", Draco cried out, "That's literally all the information I currently have about them, other than both of them being your friends"

They had reached the Leaky Cauldron.

"Maybe we could go somewhere else and talk a bit more", Harry proposed shyly.

Malfoy agreed.

_Isn't that cute? A Death Eater who can't say no to Harry Potter!_

_*_

Harry Potter's house in Grimmauld Place looked much more like Malfoy Manor, than Draco had anticipated. It seemed to consist of dark hallways, old portraits and carpets.

Draco followed her through a few identical looking corridors, through a door into the strangest room he had ever seen.

It was an indoor garden without any windows. Glowing flowers illuminated a bench between large flowerbeds. Some of the plants sparkled, some changed their colours, some danced and some sang an eerie but beautiful melody.

"A present by Neville", Harry explained while she sat down on the blue grass in front of the bench, "He promissed me that all the plants are harmless"

After hesitating for a few seconds Draco sat down next to her.

"Was it okay, that I brought Luna? I met her in the Leaky Cauldron and she said, you once were great friends and she would like to meet you again"

Draco didn't respond. Harry's voice sounded a little to cheerful.

This certainly wasn't about Luna.

"It's strange I never knew, you were friends"

Just wait.

 _Manipulative little snake, aren't you?_ I am a Slytherin. Of course I am manipulative.

"I believe, you could become friends again, don't you? You still can talk for ages", Harry said.

He kept waiting.

Finally, she stopped talking.

"This biography-project is the reason we met yesterday, isn't it?", Draco said softly, "It's why you were crying"

He waited till she nodded.

"There will be seven books with my name on the cover that claim to be from my point of view though they'll depict me as an angsty teenage boy", she whispered, "I already hate reading about The Boy Who Lived in the newspaper. It makes me feel really disphoric. How am I supposed to survive seven long books that everyone will read?"

Draco silently listened to her sobs. _Unhelpful._

"Maybe you could ask them to postpone their project", he finally suggested.

"I already have. They just claimed that it wouldn't make any sense from a marketing standpoint"

She sounded so desperate, so helpless.

"Hey", Draco said, taking her hand in his, "There is a solution and we will find it and make it work" _Breaking promisses is something you are very good at. Remember the one about Dumbledore?_

"We?", Harry asked.

"Yes. As in, you and I and probably your friends" He felt her fingertips brush against his. It made him feel a bit dizzy and fuzzy and fine.

When had he stopped being cautious around her?

"They don't know" She let go of his hand. It felt far too empty.

"Yes, you said so yesterday, but you didn't explain why"

She faked a laugh. "Well, since we're already having a heartfelt moment, I could as well just go on..."

Her glasses reflected the colourful lights around them, when she started to explain. Her voice sounded a bit rougher and a little defensive.

"... It might sound ridiculous, but the reason that I didn't come out is mainly: There always was something else to worry about! Voldemort, Sirius, the trimagical tornament, Umbridge, the horcruxes... Of course I could feel, there was something off, but then also had a connection to Voldemort and not exactly a normal childhood. At first I just thought it was normal to feel a bit... different. When I first heard of the term transgender, I struggled to accept it for a long time. I hoped, it would go away. And when I finally accepted it, I started to realize, how everyone knew me as the boy who lived. Shortly afterwards I learnt of a prophecy that said, a boy who fulfilled certain requirements was the only one who could kill Voldemort. Voldemort had chosen me. I didn't know much about that kind of magic, but at least I was certain I had to stay quiet about it. Even if I couldn't be the one, the prophecy spoke of, I could try to weaken Voldemort and prepare everything for the real hero who could kill him“

Draco felt Harry's leg touch his. In a silent attempt to comfort her, he had closen the small gap between them. If she hadn't noticed already, she would if he moved away. Better just stay right were he was. _You are taking advantage of this situation! Your father would be so proud of you._

„That's not how it happened though“, Draco pointed out, "You didn't just prepare everything". He wasn't sure, why he was focussing on this part of her story. Maybe because imagening Harry figuring herself out without anyone to talk to, was too painfull. _Or for once you are doing what is expected of you – putting the Dark Lord first, trying to understand how he was killed in order to avoid that mistake._

„No. I killed him. I have thought about it a lot since then. At first I tried to convince myself, that I actually wasn't transgender after all, that the prophecy proved, I was a man. I kept telling myself it was just another embarassing phase. But... I still felt like my body was wrong and every time someone called me a boy or a man... Maybe the prophecy saw me as a boy, because everyone else did. Or because I looked and tried to act like a boy. Or because I really tried to repress every part of me that said otherwise.“

There was no hint of triumph in Harry's face. Draco tried to imagine being her – and failed. Impossible. How could anyone stand so much pain and remain that strong and confident?

„Interesting“, he said, without thinking.

„Sorry?“

„It is kind of interesting, that both of you got to choose in the end. The Dark Lord – Voldemort – chose you as his executioner and you chose to keep this role“

They went back to being silent.

Their fingers were intertwined again, her head lay on his shoulder.

"Do you think I should tell them?", Harry mumbled.

Right, her friends... He had almost forgotten that part of their conversation. 

"I don't know", Draco admitted, "It might help you to have someone to talk to, if the biographies are published"

He felt her raise her head. Now her face was directly in front of his.

"I could talk to you"

Did she really trust him that much? _You could be killed by the other Death Eaters anytime. Then your cute little crush would be alone._

"I think, you shouldn't solely relie on me"

She sighed and put her head back on his shoulder.

"I hate that you're right"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed.  
> I literally came up with all of Luna's / Draco's theories as I wrote this - but knowing this fandom, each of those ideas have already been discussed before...  
> Anyway: Thank you for reading; feel free to comment!


	6. Basix of communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter contains:  
> \- A nightmare  
> \- A lot of thoughts  
> \- An awkward encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: A nightmare that involves corpses, torture, murder,... and the aftermath of said nightmare.  
> This one is getting really dark.  
> If you want to skip it: it ends after the second *

_He was back in the café, standing somewhere in the middle of the room. It was completely silent._

_No laughter from the old men, no exhausting chattering from the waitress._

_He saw their bodies, untidily slumped over the counter, the tables and each other. The ground was covered with the shards of cups and plates._

_Without hesitating he moved to the waitress to feel her pulse. Nothing. Her skin was cold under his fingers. She was dead. They all were. The old men, the waitress, the woman who was lying in front of the door. Dead, dead dead._

_He had known it from the moment he had seen them, but... Dead._

_He saw the surprise, the shock in their faces._

_No blood, no visible injuries._

_It might have comforted him, but that meant..._

_"Imperio"_

_His body turned._

_The Dark Lord was pointing at him with his wand, Draco's father and Draco's aunt standing next to him, both smiling._

_"My Lord", Bellatrix whispered, "May I?"_

_Torture._

_It was her trade-mark._

_"Patience", the Dark Lord answered without even looking at her, "You may do as you please – later"_

_Draco's body slumped into a deep bow before falling on its knees. He felt his legs bruise when they hid the shards on the ground._

_"Draco Malfoy", the haunting voice seeped into his brain, "You have disappointed me greatly"_

_He felt how each and every thought he had had, everything he had done for and against the Dark Lord was examined._ Worthless. _The word appeared between his memories, but it wasn't Draco's thought._

_"You know we have to do it", said his father, "It's for the greater good"_

_Blood Traitor._

_He knew the feeling of multiple people invading his mind at the same time. For a moment he saw his aunt teaching him Occlumency, a reminder of his weakness._

_He was transformed into a ferret._

_Blood wetted the fabric of his shirt as a spell carved his chest._

_His skin was burnt in the Room of Requirements._

_"Stop", the Dark Lord commanded._

_Draco was back in the café, sweating and panting on his hands and knees._

_"Please", Bellatrix mumbled, "Let me go on, my Lord"_

_"No. There is something else... Something to make him suffer"_

_She rose her wand._

_"I'm not talking about Cruciatus"_

_"Forgive her, my lord, forgive us", Lucius begged, grabbing Bellatrix' arm, holding her back._

_"Imperio"_

_Draco's body went limp._

_The door of the café opened._

_Harry._

_She came in with a smile, looking beautiful in her green blouse._

_"Kill", the Dark Lord whispered._

_Draco's legs moved, walked towards Harry._

_She still smiled, told him about Luna dating Neville, laughed._

_He was standing in front of her._

_"Maybe we could...", Harry said, "go somewhere else...."_

_His arms rose._

_"and talk..."_

_His fingers brushed over the tender skin of her throat._

_"a bit more"_

_His hands closed around her neck._

_She choked._

_She weakly fought against his grip._

_The skin bruised under his fingers._

_He saw the panic in her eyes._

_He couldn't stop._

_"Do it"_

_"Blood traitor"_

_He killed her._

_Her body sank to the ground._

_"Well done", cooed Voldemort, "Bellatrix, go on"_

_"Crucio!"_

*

Just a nightmare, just a nightmare.

_You killed her._

Only a nightmare, please, let it be a nightmare.

_She is dead, you killed her._

Impossible.

_You should have protected her._

He was in his room, in his bed; it had only been a nightmare.

_How can you be sure about that?_

_Maybe you were walking in your sleep._

_Maybe they made you do it while you were asleep._

Her dead body lying in front of his feet.

Her eyes wide open, panicked.

He would never...

Even though he would. If they'd use the Imperius curse on him, he would.

Harry would stop him.

Harry wasn't almighty.

Her fragile neck under his fingers. Fighting his grip. Loosing. Dying.

_Murderer._

Voldemort was dead. Bellatrix was dead. His father wasn't even nearly as powerful as them.

But did that matter? Was it important, that it had only been a dream?!

It could have been real. There still were enough Death Eaters who could make him do it.

He spent the next few hours with starring at the ceiling. Not really awake, but definitely not asleep. He couldn't go back to sleep.

Even no sleep at all was better than nightmares and memories.

*

Draco wasn't woken up by the loud bang from the flat upstairs. He didn't wake up when the noise was followed by much more unsettling sounds, panting, whimpering and screaming.

He didn't wake up because he hadn't fallen asleep.

He had been sitting on his bed, fully dressed in muggle clothes, trying to calm down by making an alphabetic list of drinks.

Now he was running, his wand in his hand.

His neighbours were in danger.

He had heard the pain in their voices, someone was torturing them.

They were innocent muggles, just the kind of people Death Eaters liked to play with.

He'd save them, he'd do anything.

He reached the door.

Locked.

Untypical for Death Eaters, but maybe they had gotten more careful.

Draco certainly was more careful then before, so why shouldn't they have changed?

Instead of magically unlocking the door he knocked.

Even though all of his instincts kept yelling, he was wasting time, he couldn't be sure if they hadn't jinxed the entrance. It could be a trap.

Sometimes it was safer to act unpredictably. Staying outside and knocking was certainly safer than apparating in his neighbours' living-room. Besides- wiping memories didn't always work perfectly and it probably wasn't a good idea to show them more of his magic skills than necessary.

_But honestly – You are actually just scared._

He knocked again, louder and faster this time. _Good job – now they know you are there. They'll kill them off and then they'll come after you!_

He heard the sound of a key turning in the lock.

The door opened.

Draco prepared to stupefy them.

A red faced young man appeared in the crack of the door. Apparently he was only wearing a dressing gown. "Hey bud, you're alright?" He didn't look like a Death Eater. Maybe he was one of the many neighbours he hadn't met yet...

"Are they still in there? Are they threatening you? You don't have to answer verbally, just nod, I can help you", Draco whispered.

The man starred at him for a second before cracking a smile. "Oh, got it, yeah, sorry. We can get a little loud" He laughed in embarrassment, "The walls are pretty thin here, you aren't the first to complain. I guess, we really should work on that"

Draco blinked in surprise and slowly lowered his wand.

He looked at the man again. Tousled hair, a deep blush, swollen lips... Oh.

"You were having-" Oh. Gosh.

The man laughed again. "Yeah. But I got to say your way of complaining is pretty innovative, bud. For a hot second I was genuinely confused"

Draco tried to look relaxed while at the same time assimilating what just had happened. He had interrupted his neighbours while they... Gosh.

"Sorry again, uhm... probably not the best way of meeting a new neighbour", the man said, "Maybe you could come to tea later – er let's say... four o' clock? My boyfriend and I really can be more than just noisy neighbours... Okay?"

"Yes", Draco replied, "I'm looking forward to it"

The man smiled and closed the door.

Draco was already halfway down the stairs, when the door reopened.

"I'm Phil, by the way", the man said, "Sorry"

He closed the door with a loud bang that made Draco jump.

He entered his flat, closed the door, made sure all protective spells were in place and floped down on his bed. It was early in the morning, he had just met one of his neighbours, gotten invited to tea... and forgotten to introduce himself.

It could have been worse though, he admitted to himself, as he got up and started to make some tea.

He could have apparated into their bedroom...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might have noticed, I changed the Chapter Titles to something a little less boring  
> \- One might say, I'm _cursed_ with the inability to _spell_... (Sorry :-P )
> 
> Anyway: Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed, feel free to comment!


	7. Somewhere between hell and seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter is an emotional roller coaster - if a roller coaster can be an underground train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! 
> 
> As you might have seen, I updated the Tags today. Some of them apply to this Chapter, some don't - just hang on!

Almost eight hours till he'd meet Phil and his boyfriend.

Draco was nervous. Scared. Probably almost panicking.

_Scared of muggles? Seriously Malfoy?!_

Yes, they were muggles. Which meant his people had probably hurt a lot of their people. He owed them a lot.

_Powerless. So easy to manipulate or hurt._

And apparently he couldn't escape the way of thinking his family had taught him.

If he was completely honest, he didn't even want to meet them as some kind of an unspoken apology. _Egoist._

Yesterday he had told Harry she couldn't solely rely on him. The more he had thought about it the more he had realized that he needed someone else as well.

If only because one day, he would have to let her go.

He wasn't a good person. He knew it and Harry would realize it very soon, too. At the moment he was the only one who knew about her secret, so she had a reason to put up with him. But as soon as she'd have come out to her friends, she would remember everything he had done. She would hate him again and leave him and it was okay. It really was, because he would do the same thing. He didn't deserve the attention of The Chosen One. _Pathetic._

But it would crash him if he didn't prepare. Friends might help him. If he was lucky, they'd even be trustworthy enough that he could tell them about his former... habits. _You can't even take care of yourself!_

Stop it! You don't know them. How can you be so naive?

He just couldn't stop being hopeful. Of course it was stupid.

But... She'd leave him. Maybe she had already decided she didn't need him anymore.

When they had said goodbye yesterday, she had told him she would visit the Weasleys today. Maybe she had already come out to all of them. Draco couldn't compete with a whole family of funny, friendly and compassionate redheads. He imagined them being all touchy-feely, taking turns hugging her and assuring her she was loved. _Jealous, Malfoy?_

Stop thinking about it. It is unhealthy.

*

After senselessly pacing the room for half an hour he still felt restless. Why wasn't he tired? He hadn't gotten a full night of sleep for years. Nightmares. Memories. He didn't want to be tired anyway.

He entered the bathroom and stared at his face in the mirror.

Would he ever stop seeing his father whenever he looked at his reflection?

Dark shadows, pale skin, haunted grey eyes.

He averted his gaze.

He wasn't hungry.

He wasn't thirsty.

He wasn't bored.

He wasn't feeling okay.

Everything felt heavy and numb at the same time.

Feelings, feelings, even though he didn't feel anything at all.

Maybe he actually was tired. Just not in the way that could be cured by sleeping.

Had he been happy yesterday?

When he had talked to Harry for hours, first in the café then in her garden, ... had he felt good?

He was sure he had, but he couldn't remember how exactly it had felt.

How was happiness supposed to feel?

He stripped, stepped into the shower and tried to concentrate on the feeling of hot water on his skin. Everything was so shallow, so flat.

He sat on the ground of the shower, his knees close to his chest.

She would be gone. She had other friends who she loved and who'd never let her down.

He closed his eyes, leant back.

*

_"Do you believe him?" She sounded so excited, her blond hair sticking out in all directions, her eyes sparkling._

_"Luna" He had no choice._

_"Luna, we can't be friends anymore"_

_*_

His chest felt empty and heavy, as if someone had replaced his heart with rocks.

He raised his arm and turned off the water.

Pointless.

He leant against the wall.

Why should he bother to dry up?

There was nothing he could do anyway.

*

He forced himself to move. He left the shower, wrapped himself into a towel, opened a window.

Never mind if they'd attack him now.

He didn't want to fight anymore.

Nothing happened.

He put his clothes back on.

He lay down on his bed, his hair still wet.

He starred at the ceiling.

*

He only remembered Phil's invitation, when it was 3:55 pm.

Five minutes.

He slowly stood up feeling drained.

Maybe he needed some kind of a present for them? Too late to go outside and buy something... Never mind. He quickly transfigured one of his cups into a rose out of porcelain. It had been a very ugly cup with an incredibly ugly pattern but as a flower it almost looked charming.

Did muggles even like artificial flowers?

He had never gotten acquainted with any muggles in his life.

He left his flat without even looking in the mirror once.

They for sure would hate him, so why bother?

He didn't feel nervous.

He didn't feel anything at all.

He raised his fist to knock on the door only to realize it had been open all along.

Open doors usually were a bad sign.

For once he didn't care.

He just stepped in, closed the door behind him and waited. _Bad manners, Malfoy! What would your family say?!_ "They already hate me", he whispered, while slowly moving through the dark hallway. The flat had a similar ground-plan to his', but it looked much more tidy.

"Hey, bud! You came", a cheerful voice exclaimed.

Draco turned around.

Phil was standing in the kitchen, balancing a tray on one hand and waving with the other.

"Hello", Draco said. His voice sounded deeper than usually. He cleared his throat. "My name is Draco Malfoy. I am very delighted to meet you"

"We already met, bud", Phil said, while pointing him to a room at the end of the corridor with his free hand, "No need to be all formal and stiff"

Draco mumbled a very formal apology while he followed Phil into the room – the living-room, apparently.

A pretty short young man with a lot of freckles and long brown hair was sitting in front of a table and reading a muggle newspaper.

"That's my boyfriend Jeremy. Jem, this is Draco"

The man smiled shortly, folded the paper and lay it under his chair. He stood up, nodded and seemed to wait.

"It is very nice to make your acquaintance", Draco mumbled.

Phil who was currently setting the table made a strange noise.

"Likewise", Jeremy replied calmly.

He imitated Draco's posture in a way that almost looked natural. _Irritating._

Oh, the voice was really coming back! And with it the feelings, the nervousness, the shame. He hated feeling apathetic. But people... usually made him feel too much and he couldn't trust himself when he started getting emotional.

"This is for you", he croaked out and showed them the rose. He knew Jeremy was still watching him.

"Thanks", Phil said pointedly, "It is beautiful"

Jeremy nodded twice.

They took a seat.

"So, Draco", Jeremy began after a while, "Today you heard me and my partner engage in sexual intercourse, before you knocked at our door and talked to Phil who was barely dressed. Is there anything you want to know?"

Was that some kind of an attack?

Or was Jem really expecting him to ask something?

Draco had a sip of his tea. It was so hot that he instantly regretted it.

Jeremy was still watching him.

Gosh! He had meant it! He thought, Draco wanted to know more about them – which was true; but... not like this! Think!

_How can you give a muggle so much power?! Annoying!_

"How did you get together?", Draco asked. It was the only question he could think of that was neither too strange, nor too rude.

Phil smiled reassuringly.

"So you want to know our origin story?", Jeremy said smirking.

"Jem" Draco focussed on Phil's face. Embarrassment, wasn't it? Had Draco's question been too personal?

"When Phil was a little boy, a man killed both of his parents. Everyone knew his name, but he didn't just want to be famous because of a name. I actually don't believe, he wanted to be famous at all. Once he had gotten a little older, he practiced hard. Soon, he started fighting the bad guys – even though there weren't many people who supported him; mainly an old friend of his family, a woman with a strong sense of justice and a surprisingly loyal man. Phil kind of lead a double life but none of his friends knew about it – maybe apart from the old man, who was rather secretive anyway. When we first met, we weren't believing in the same ideals, but after he saved everyone we both began to open up. We started to meet, sit in cafés and began leading a life with much more privacy"

But... that was Harry's story. Harry and his' story!

Someone had told them. Someone who knew Harry and him, someone who had watched them and knew about their meeting in the café. Hell, they even knew about Harry's double life!

Why had Jeremy told him this story?

Was this a threat?

Draco knew a lot about threats and people who used them.

There were two main situations in which threatening someone made any sense at all.

Firstly, when one was desperate.

Jeremy seemed to be too calm to be desperate.

Secondly, when one already was in a position of power, when one had already won.

Could there be any other possibility he kept overlooking?!

Would the Death Eaters really use two muggles to send him a message?

Draco's thoughts kept spinning.

They would, they definitely would.

No, he was jumping to conclusions...

It didn't even have to be a threat.

Maybe it hadn't been the other Death Eaters.

But who else would do this?

Luna and Harry didn't know where he lived and they had no reason to scare him in that way.

Someone had watched him, eavesdropped on him, probably for multiple weeks.

It had to be the Death Eaters, at least one of them.

At some point he had started to shiver.

They were staring at him. Judging him. Analysing him. _Worthless._

What did they expect him to do? What did they want? _Worthless worthless worthless._

"Would you excuse me, please", he croaked, stumbling to his feet, leaving the room, the flat, breathing, breathing.

Everything was spinning.

He collapsed in the stairwell.

*

"Draco?"

Headache. Everything ached. Dizziness.

"Can you hear me?"

He struggled to open his eyes.

"Draco?"

Phil. He could see Phil. A little blurred, but definitely Phil.

"Hey"

Who had said that, Draco wondered for a moment, oh, wait, that had been himself. "Stupid little whiz"

"Draco, can you please try to focus on me for a sec?"

Phil. Worried sounding voice. Somewhere to his left. Was that his left? Everything kept rotating around him.

What? - Ah yes, Phil.

Draco liked Phil.

No. He didn't.

Phil was evil. Maybe.

Jem knew a lot about Harry and this maybe made both of them evil.

Thinking made Draco's head hurt even more.

"Draco"

"Yeah". So tired.

"Goodness! So you can hear me! Okay, phew, uhm, Draco! You kinda fainted on the stairs. Do you remember?"

Did he?

A few blurred pictures in his mind.

"Yeah" Maybe.

"'kay. Can you move?"

He felt hands on his body and flinched instinctively, almost falling on the steps beneath him. Phil caught him.

"Sorry mate, chill, please, you're really frightening me right now"

He let Phil help him stand up and get back into Phil and Jeremy's flat.

Phil was really strong.

Impressive.

"Jem?", Draco asked once he was safely lying on the couch.

Phil had searched the flat for cushions and fussed over getting him something to drink.

"Jem is freaking out in the kitchen", Phil said softly.

Why did you bring me here, Draco wanted to ask, why do you care?

But somehow deep down he was still a Malfoy, cunning, proud and unable to show his true emotions.

"Isn't the kitchen a dangerous place to freak out at?", he asked, expecting Phil to pale and run to Jeremy.

Phil smiled.

"Jem is not the self-destructive type. Besides, all of the knives are safely locked away and the stove only works, if one activates the timer. As long as we can't hear any loud ticking noises, Jem isn't setting himself on fire. I'm rather worried 'bout you, bud"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope, you enjoyed. Feel free to comment - There honestly is no reason to be shy ;-)


	8. An emotional first-eight-kit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!  
> This Chapter is basically a lot of confusion with a few mixed in plans.

The amount of people who had ever been worried for Draco Lucius Malfoy was very small.

His nanny, the houseelves, Hagrid, Pansy, probably Professor Snape.

The amount of people who had really been worried for Draco and not just about the possible consequences of ignoring him was nonexistent.

_Welcome to reality! Nobody really cares._

He had always been on the side of powerful people.

His father, his aunt, the Dark Lord.

Whenever something bad happened, he'd tell them, his father would hear about it. As if those words were a spell on their own, everyone would start to care, mumble kind words or at least get out of his way. - Well... everyone except for Harry and a few of her friends... He had always admired them for that... and been equally annoyed. Typically Gryffindorish behaviour...

But Phil was a muggle, Draco was on his own and this time there was nobody whose sinnister plans had the side effect of protecting selfish young Malfoys.

Why would Phil be worried?

Why would Jem freak out?

"Draco? Are you still with me?"

Easiest answer: a trap.

Jem was in the kitchen, probably contacting the Death Eaters right now...

"What exactly is Jeremy doing?", he asked while he carefully tried to stand up.

Phil imediately grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to lay back again. He felt Phil's hands rest on his shoulders, which would have been calming, if he hadn't been so anxious.

"Probably painting. It kinda calms him down"

Painting... in the kitchen?! That didn't make any sense at all!

His head still hurt and moving made him feel dizzy, but...

He had to escape!

As he was momentarily unable to focus, disapparating wasn't an option.

So ... running? He would probably fall down the stairs.

Walking? Phil would stop him.

Fighting? He still had his wand... But casting spells was dangerous when one couldn't think straight. They might backfire and hurt him and possible innocent bystanders. Again... not an option.

But staying also wasn't a good idea, so...

"Um... Draco? I hope you don't mind me saying, bud, Jem is really feeling bad for making you feel uncomfortable"

Was Phil trying to distract him? _All muggles are distractions, Malfoy! You can play with them when you're bored!_ Very funny.

Just don't listen to Phil! Try to regain focus, so you can safely disapparate soon. Just wait!

"He always does that sort of thing when we meet someone new"

Did that mean, Draco wasn't the first wizard they had met? That didn't make any sense. Or did it? Had they purposefully chosen to live close to him? Had they waited for him to knock at their door? Was that all part of a big plan?

No... they had already lived here when he had moved in. But what if...

Unimportant. He had to get out of there. The Death Eaters were probably already on their way. He wouldn't be able to fight them. In fact, there was no reason at all that they weren't already here... Contacting them usually didn't take more than a few seconds.

They wouldn't hide, would they? No... they were able to wait, but they weren't very patient and there was no reason to hold back when they could just attack him right now.

So why hadn't they come to this flat instantly?

Maybe they were planning something else...

Probably something worse...

"What sort of thing?", Draco whispered.

Phil uncomfortably fidgeted on his chair.

"I guess, one could call it... testing the waters. Like, he says a few things to make others uncomfortable so he can analyse their reaction. If they are chill with it, he'll become the best friend they ever had. If they don't, he's like "screw them" and moves on. He really didn't mean to hurt your feelings by doing that"

Hurting his feelings... by threatening him? By showing off their detailed knowledge about Draco's

life? What was wrong with them?!

"So... what will happen now?", Draco asked. He felt his voice break. _A little crybaby, aren't you?_

Once again he tried to leave, once again Phil made him stay.

They were mad! Bonkers! Crazy! Insane!

"Er... Jem will apologize and promise he won't talk to you about Batman ever again. Then it's up to you", Phil said. There was something very vulnerable in his eyes, something that suggested he was worried. Worried for Jem.

"Batman?"

Probably an Animagus.

But why had Phil said "again"?

There had to be a connection to the story Jem had told. The story about Harry.

Had it been an Animagus, who had watched Draco; who had watched them? As a bat?

Wait,... a bat in a small café in London, in the afternoon? How likely was that?!

Since he had met Rita, he knew that spying on people in an Animagus form could be very effective. On the other hand, her form was a bug...

And strangely, except for Peter Pettigrew, he couldn't recall a Death Eater who happened to be an Animagus.

"I also might offer to tell our real origin story", a friendly voice said.

He turned his head.

Jeremy was standing on the threshold. His posture was just as stiff as before, but his mimic seemed to be more open. Phil squeaked softly and gestured encouragingly.

"But what about Batman?", Draco repeated.

Why did Jeremy's voice sound so much warmer? Why was his expression softer? Was that relief? Had he managed to contact this Batman? Would the Animagus come here? Although each passing second made it more unlikely that anyone was going to show up... Apparating usually didn't take that long. What was he missing?

"Oh... my apologies. I previously didn't realize that you might not get my reference", Jem said.

Phil snorted, grabbed his hand and pulled him over. "Yeah, stop thinking of everyone as a nerd", Phil ordered with a smile, "just 'cause you are one"

They sat down on the floor next to the couch, Phil gently placing an arm around Jem's shoulders.

"In my opinion it is highly debatable if knowing Nolan's Batman films is qualification enough to be-" Jem abruptly stopped talking as Phil slowly leant over and kissed him.

Draco hastily looked away. His wandering gaze froze, when he noticed the orange, purple and grey dots on Jem's hands and arms. Paint!

But...

Why should he have smeared himself with paint after contacting the Death Eaters?

Draco starred at the colours.

He tried to think logically.

Jem had been outside the living room for a while.

Phil had said, Jem was freaking out in the kitchen and probably painting.

Jem had heard the end of their conversation – at least.

Draco hadn't heard him open the door, which suggested that Jem hadn't left the flat.

Jem was covered in paint.

In conclusion...

"Sorry", Phil said.

Draco looked up to signal he was listening.

"So... The films about Batman tell one of those superhero stories, Jem likes. Jem already kinda told you the plot, except I'm not Batman and he isn't Catwoman"

Draco blinked in confusion.

Jeremy sighed. "Well, I'd suggest we watch the films when you are feeling better. I am sorry if you feel like I spoiled them to you, but you might still enjoy it"

Draco caught himself nodding and smiling though he still had no idea, what they were talking about. Watching films? Superheroes?

At least he started to realize that there might have been a misunderstanding. He felt a wave of relief wash over him at that thought.

Jeremy seemed to have referenced a story about another person they knew.

No Death Eaters, no intimate knowledge of Draco's life, no danger. Just an odd coincidence.

"So this Batman person is a friend of you", he concluded, pleased with his ability to understand everything so quickly.

*

Strangely neither Phil nor Jem were convinced that his head was okay.

Both insisted, he had to stay where he was, drink a lot of tea and wait till his brain worked again, as Phil had put it.

Apparently Batman was not a real person but a fictional character, which all muggles seemed to now. A very disappointing revelation indeed.

Apart from this vexing insight, the afternoon became more and more enjoyable.

After another few apologies from both of them – from which Draco had leant, that they both believed him to be insulted by Jem's little test – Jeremy had started to tell him more about painting.

"I usually start out by drawing lines in different colours. Long swipes and short swipes, sometimes with a lot of water, sometimes not. When I'm feeling a little better, I might add some trees, the contours of mountains, just a few details", he said, while he showed Draco a collection of small water-colour paintings.

Even talking about painting made Jem's posture look more relaxed.

"So you are drawing landscapes?", Draco asked.

Most of the paintings in the magic world were portraits. There weren't many wizards who were professional artists, but those liked the challenge of creating thinking, talking and interacting personalities. Most of the drawn landscapes, Draco had seen, therefore were actually just the backgrounds of empty portraits. The concept of only painting a piece of nature without any humans or animals in it, felt weird.

"Well the result tends to be a landscape, but I don't really view it as painting landscapes. I'd rather say, I turn a little piece of controllable chaos into something more logical and familiar", Jem explained, "It is my personal interpretation of therapy and at the same time my approach to modern art"

"Tea anyone?", Phil cheerfully offered. He was just returning from the kitchen with yet another full teapot.

"No, thank you", Draco replied, "I guess, I'll go back to my flat"

Phil looked like he was about to protest, when Jem lay a hand on his shoulder.

"All right", he said, "As long as you promise to visit a doctor as soon as anything feels off"

Draco gladly promised, he would.

Firstly, his head really didn't ache as much as before.

Secondly, he'd say anything for a little silence. - Even though he liked Phil and Jem.

And thirdly: He had enough ingredients in storage to mix anti-headache-potions for half of Europe.

Phil looked a little hurt. _Very good, Malfoy, you almost made him cry!_

"Hey", Draco said as friendly as he could, "Jem, would you mind teaching me how to paint?" He watched both of their expressions brighten at that. "My pleasure. Just knock or write when you want to begin" At that, Phil gave him a piece of paper on which he had written a long array of numbers, which was for his "phone". Draco hesitantly took the note and hoped, they wouldn't mind him knocking at their door later on.

Once again, he regretted not having elected Muggle Studies. Even though his family would have hated it,... Probably not that bad of an idea that he hadn't elected it after all....

*

Saying goodbye had taken an eternity.

Finally he had managed to stumble downstairs, open the door and collapse on his bed.

It was far too early to go to bed. He had to cook something for dinner and make up his mind about everything that had happened...

If only he wasn't so incredibly tired...

Just lying down for a second, closing his eyes, relaxing....

*

When he woke up, the room was dark.

"No", Draco whispered, "No, no, no".

How could he have fallen asleep?!

He felt a little hungry. Of course! - he hadn't had dinner.

One step at a time...

Yawning and rubbing his eyes he approached the bathroom.

Surprisingly cold... Oh! He had forgotten to close the window.

No problem... the fresh air might help him to fully wake up.

He washed his hands and was grabbing for a towel, when he saw the letter.

A small white envelope that lay in front of the sink.

Owl post, without a doubt. - Even though most owls waited, till they could deliver an answer... Weird.

At least it was obvious that the owl had entered through the open window. That made sense. - Right?

He shook his head. Wake up, Malfoy, get it together! Absentmindedly he dried his hands, took the envelope and left the room.

He stretched, wondered if he was so tired because of his injured head or because of being sleep deprived, yawned.

He switched the lights on, took a seat on the floor of his living room and opened the envelope.

Suddenly he was wide awake.

He knew this handwriting...

**Draco,**

**I'm going to visit Hermione & Ron tomorrow. **

Again? Slightly excessive, don't you think, Harry?

**I'm going to come out to them.**

Draco felt a wave of sorrow rise up in his chest. He fought it back.

Of course she would want to come out to them. It honestly was baffling, that she hadn't done it yet.

_Poor little Malfoy, soon you'll be obsolete again!_ \- Just as I am ought to be!

**I don't know, when you'll receive this letter, but please apparate to Grimmauldplace asap. (Honestly – even if it's in the middle of the night!)**

**I need you**

What?

Draco shut his eyes, massaged his temples, waited a few seconds and reread the paragraph.

**... apparate to Grimmauldplace... I need you**

Was he still asleep? Lost in a beautiful dream?

Or even worse... How hard had he hit his head? Was he hallucinating?

He read it again.

And again.

And again.

He tried to think of other words that might look like this in Harry's rushed, untidy handwriting.

**I need you**

**HP**

Was it stupid, to hope for those words to be true?

**I need you**

He apparated without even bothering to close the window in the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading - I hope, you enjoyed this Chapter - feel free to comment ;-)


	9. Not quite platform nine or ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes really good sandwiches.

Draco was so nervous, that he forgot to knock.

The door was open.

He directly entered the house.

He only realized a moment later, freezing in the dark hallway after closing the door, hearing quick steps on the staircase.

_Bad behaved. Unacceptable. A disgrace._

"Oh my gosh, Draco!"

Harry. She moved downstairs like a whirlwind, arms and legs flying, full of confidence and energy.

"I'm so -" he was cut off, when she pulled him into a strong hug.

Automatically, his arms looped around her body as well. He moved a little slower, a little more careful than her. He didn't want to startle her. She felt far too warm and save to let her go.

"I kinda hate you right now", she whispered close to his ear, "I know, what I wrote, but I didn't think you'd take _**in the middle of the night**_ that literally, stupid!"

He tensed up and removed his arms from her. _Not worthy._

"What time is it?" _A disappointment._

She laughed softly and let him go as well. "About one o' clock am!"

He managed to apologize five times before they reached her indoor garden-room. _No acceptable excuses!_

At least she seemed to be willing to let it go.

Just when they had sat down between the plants, his stomach rumbled. A terribly loud and rude sound. - But not that surprising, considering he hadn't eaten since... since when? It had to be more than nine hours. Still, ... it was embarrassing.

Judging by her expression, Harry had heard it as well.

"Perhaps we should eat something before we get back to work", she proposed thoughtfully.

"Back to work?"

"I am trying to prepare for tomorrow"

That was quite endearing. And a very rare thing to do for a Gryffindor.

"So when you wrote that you need me, it wasn't because of our great and glorious friendship. You actually just meant, that you need a Slytherin" He tried to sound unbothered, but beneath the layers of sarcasm it stung. _Of course she didn't mean, she needed you as a friend._ Preposterous thought, indeed. How arrogant!

"I need you as a Slytherin and as a friend. Both of it", Harry said seriously. _Welcome to the friend zone!_ No, no! I was the one who brought the topic of friendship up. She just reacted. _By saying she needed you as a friend, Malfoy! She will use you and make you leave once she got everything she wanted._

"I hope you are ready to answer a lot of questions"

*

To Draco's great surprise, Harry was an amazing cook.

He couldn't remember ever having eaten better sandwiches than hers. Which meant a lot, considering, how often he had dined with important wizards in impressive saloons. Eating sandwiches, Harry had made in the kitchen of Grimmauldplace, facing her, whose green eyes were bright, happy and excited, was better than anything else. _Such a pathetic little burden, making her cook because you aren't capable of looking after yourself_.

"I'm ready for your questions, by the way", Harry said, when he had almost finished his first sandwich.

"Why tomorrow?", Draco replied between to bites. _No manners, Malfoy!_

Harry didn't hesitate for a second about answering. She probably had already expected this question... _Predictable. Boring._

"Today was the first time I fully realized, that I could do it. You know, I was at the Weasleys' house and we were talking about politics and the prejudices against muggleborns and how wrong it is to discriminate people for who they were born as-"

Mudbloods... He had been one of the people who discriminated against them. Once he would have laughed at the thought they might be equal to purebloods like him. Ancient family values.

"- And I kept thinking they'd accept me. They actually would be okay with it! I mean, I never realized, but Hermione is part of a minority in the magic community as well"

Draco gulped. "Well... that depends. Strictly speaking, purebloods might be more of a minority than muggleborns." He took in her excited smile and this cute blush. What was he doing? He didn't want to make her feel less safe."But as purebloods arguably are a privileged minority... Well I'm sure, they'll accept you anyway. Why didn't you tell them right away?", he hastily added. Talking about important and personal things to your friends, before even thinking about it. - As you typically would, you clueless, reckless, adorable Gryffindor-girl...

Suddenly Harry looked a little flustered. "I kind of wanted to, but... coming out in front of my ex and their whole family?! Probably a little extreme"

"Says the Gryffindor who year after year couldn't stop getting herself into dangerous adventures", he teased, though he couldn't stop thinking about something else, something she had just said...

Harry's ex-girlfriend, Ginny. How had he almost forgotten about her?

If there was any prove needed, that Harry Potter was into women... Ginny Weasley.

Just another annoying redhead.

So ginger it was almost ridiculous.

Worst thing about her: she had been Harry Potter's girlfriend.

Best thing about her: she wasn't Harry's girlfriend anymore.

Most important question she was involved in: Why had Harry and Ginny broken up?

Strangely enough, all of those opinions weren't just Draco's. He remembered reading almost the same thoughts in the Daily Prophet. Probably written by Rita... She was surprisingly good at being uncomfortably honest.

"So where and when will you meet Hermione and Ron tomorrow?", he asked in a not very good attempt to stay calm and neutral.

"In their new house, at four o' clock pm"

Four o'clock – probably their prefered tea time. Why did everyone insist on meeting for tea?!

Draco quickly ate his second sandwich, while Harry talked about her thoughts on coming out.

"I don't want it to be too forced, you know?", she said, "But I also don't want to wait for the perfect opportunity that probably won't come"

She brushed her fingers through her already untidy hair.

"Why the rush?", Draco asked. _Ignorant fool!_

"Did you forget about the biographies?!", Harry countered immediately, "I want all my friends to know, before those books get published"

Draco knew, he was probably being rude, but he just didn't understand.

"Firstly, we will do everything to stop them writing those books", he stated, "And secondly those books wouldn't influence your friends. I'm sorry, but why do you force yourself to do something you probably aren't even ready for?"

He quickly started eating his last sandwich to hide his embarrassment.

He had said far more than he had wanted to.

He probably had hurt her in an unforgivable way.

Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore.

"Look, Harry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

She rose her head and flashed him a small smile.

"No, it's okay. I guess based on logic, you are right. I just know that I won't be able to do it, once those books are published"

He still felt bad, but at least he was able to eat again.

*

As they had already wasted a lot of time – though Harry had put it a little more politely – they stayed in the kitchen.

Harry tested different sentences on Draco, who did his best to give her advices.

_You are wasting time! They will accept her anyway._

Soon she gained a little more confidence. It was beautiful to watch.

_And when they'll have shown, how accepting and perfect they are, she won't need you anymore!_

The coming out would for sure go more smoothly, the more comfortably she felt.

_But you honestly don't want it to go smoothly, do you, Malfoy? You want her to need you._

"We probably should go to bed now", Harry said after a while, "I can't explain stuff properly when I'm tired and you're already looking sleep-deprived"

Draco tensed.

So this was goodbye then...

He would return to his empty flat with the open window and never hear of her again.

"Would you mind, if I woke you up pretty early tomorrow? I just know, that I won't be able to sleep very well", Harry said, still a little excited.

Wait... What?!

"You want me to accompany you tomorrow"

For a split second she looked guilty. Then her expression blanked and went back to excited. "You won't have to say or do anything at all. I'd just feel better with you by my side"

Draco stood up.

She mirrored his movement, grabbed his hand and clinged to it.

"Please, I mean it. I need you to stay. I need you"

He looked at her.

Green eyes, untameable black hair, lips. Probably soft lips, probably warm lips. Lips he wanted to touch and kiss and look at all day long.

Why did she have to be so beautiful?

Everything about her reminded him of celebrations, of Hogwarts, of Quidditch. Well.... she didn't remind him of everything about those things... She made him think of the joy, the freedom and the magic, but there were no awkward interactions, no pressure and no bludgers. Being with Harry felt like being in another world where everything was innocent and pure.

Which was kind of ironic, considering how much she had gone through.

"I'm just going to go back to my flat to fetch a few things. You hadn't written anything about a sleepover, genius, and I need clothes that haven't spent the last two weeks on the floor of my bedroom"

"I think you're already looking very handsome", Harry said.

Draco couldn't decide whether he was happy about the compliment or annoyed.

Probably both.

He certainly got a little flustered.

"You might fit into one of Sirius' suits", she proposed after a while.

Sirius Black? Her dead godfather?

"I can't"

That was too much to ask. He'd rather go looking very unkempt than wearing the clothes of someone dead who she had loved.

Anyway... Somehow he already knew, she had won. He would stay.

Even before she spoke on.

"Well, I can't come out without you by my side, so..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Feel free to comment - I really appreciate it. ;-)


	10. To understend beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about something Draco loves - and the question "what do you think?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!   
> I hope you're doing okay.   
> This chapter is longer than I thought it would be, but oh well... I hope, you like it anyway.

"So what are we going to do today?", Draco asked.

They were sitting in the kitchen, having breakfast.

Harry had woken him early in the morning, when she walked past the room he was sleeping in. It was okay.

Of course he had panicked for a while – waking up in a dark room he didn't recognize, hearing the sound of steps outside – but he had started to calm as soon as he remembered.

He had put on the clothes, Harry had offered him before going to bed and followed her.

"Good morning", Harry had said, "I didn't know you were awake" They had started to set the table, silently working together. Harry had made tea, while Draco-

"Are you joking?!", Harry exclaimed, "Haven't we spend half night discussing what exactly I'll say and how I should approach the topic..." She sounded a little offended. Well, of course. He hadn't put it the right way. _Insensitive jerk!_

"No, no, sorry, I know that! What I mean is... we'll only meet Hermione and Ron in the afternoon and it's in the morning now, so... what are we going to do in between" Draco gulped. He certainly didn't do a particularly good job at expressing his thoughts. _Why don't you just stop talking?!_ He willed himself to relax a little.

Harry blushed. "I'm sorry", she finally replied, "You're right. I completely forgot, that we won't meet them until tea time"

Oh, okay. She wasn't angry. Draco felt a wave of relief roll over him. _You don't really believe, that that's it, do you?_

"We could - for example - go shopping", Draco proposed, "Then I wouldn't have to wear your godfather's clothes" He hoped, he hadn't overstepped a boundary. _Now she thinks you hate the clothes she gave you_ and _thinks you're an egoist. Great job!_

"My godfather wouldn't mind. I don't mind", Harry stressed, "Besides... I don't really like shopping. Last time I had a very unpleasant experience with one of the sales assistant, so ..."

"I'm sorry" _The one big theme of your life, isn't it? Making a mistake, being sorry, making a mistake. And on and on and on and on and on..._

"I know, this sounds strange with what we are planning for the afternoon, but I'd really like to forget about everything till then"

Draco knew far more about wanting to forget than he cared to admit. Just being two random teenagers for half a day sounded perfect.

"I know a gallery we could go to", he said, before he could think it through.

"A gallery?"

"Yes. A gallery for contemporary magic art. I mean, that's something random teenager do, visiting galleries, eating ice cream, going to cafés... isn't it?" Come to think about it, he actually had no idea, what teenagers did in their spare time. Probably he should have proposed a game of Quidditch instead... At least he had made her laugh.

"Is that a yes?", he asked, a little irritated.

"Okay", she said, still laughing.

The gallery, Draco had proposed to go to, was situated in a small village near London. Not that it mattered – It was one of the few places one could only enter via floo-powder or by apparating.

He remembered how he had visited it the first time. He had been ten years old. It was the opening celebration, a lot of very important people held a lot of important speeches. As his father was one of those people, Draco hadn't had a choice. - He had to go there as the Malfoy family's heir. _A bright symbol of the impending doom._ He remembered how stupid he had felt in his silver suit with the large black collar. He also remembered sneaking away, once everyone else was focussed on listening and looking interested. He had fallen in love with the art. Even though his father didn't speak to him for a week, it had been worth it.

_Sharing childhood memories with Harry? How cute – how pitiable. Your little plan won't work, you know? Tell her everything you love about art, be as romantic as you can, show her everything you have loved and place her among those things. It won't change a thing. Even the heaviest symbolism won't make her look at you in that way._

The last time he had visited the gallery was almost four years ago. He had gone there alone, a confused fourteen-year-old, who had just seen his father wearing the robes of a Death Eater at the international Quidditch tournament. At this time his father was his hero, who he admired, just like all the other Death Eaters. To him they were an elite troop, stronger, smarter and _better_ than anyone else. He didn't understand, why everyone had fled, when the Dark Mark appeared in the night sky or why his father hid his robes in a secret basement. However, there was one thing he did understand, even back then as a clueless fourteen year old. Everything would change and he would probably have to grow up faster than his friends. In a _pathetic_ attempt to relieve his childhood memories, he had of course also revisited the Gallery of Morgan. It didn't disappoint. Still beautiful, still special.

_Do you also remember how you cried, when you left the gallery? How you cried and cried and cried in public in front of all the witches and wizards who were there till you went back and hid in your closet so nobody would see it?_ Too many memories.

_One of the last days you were a relatively innocent child... But going there won't just turn you into the person you were back then, Malfoy. If you ever were innocent at all._

This time he wouldn't visit the gallery alone. He would be accompanied by someone who was just as beautiful and special as the gallery.

He didn't tell Harry anything about those thoughts.

"I heard, the gallery wasn't harmed in the last years", he assured her instead, "we could use floo if you have a fireplace, that's large enough"

Of course there were a lot of fireplaces that fulfilled this requirement – they were in a house built by wizards for wizards, so...

"I'm not sure if I like travelling by floo", Harry whispered nervously.

Draco paused to consider.

He wanted her to experience the gallery just like he had when he first entered it.

On the other hand, he didn't want her to be uncomfortable.

He smiled and nodded.

At least Side-Along Apparition meant, that he had an excuse to hold her hand.

_So childish. At least that much hasn't changed._

*

He felt her hand in his', soft and warm and steady just in the right way.

They were standing right where they had appeared, in the entrance hall beneath a swarm of butterflies. It was a somewhat overwhelming and scary view, but also...

"Do you like it?", he asked Harry softly.

"I don't know", she replied, pulling away.

He already missed holding her hand.

The first room of the exhibition was filled with colourful dust. It moved and slowly thickened.

The silhouettes of a golden lion and a silver snake became apparent. Both figures slowly became more visible and detailed. They began to move, lurking around each other, waiting for each other to make a mistake. The snake was the first to attack, looping around the lion's chest, starting to choke him. As if it wanted to check on its enemy, the snake sunk its head, till they were face to face. When their jaws almost touched, both figures started to liquefy. Soon they were only two different coloured clouds of smoke. A sudden breeze mixed the clouds, until they were one again.

"So what do you think?", Draco asked.

Harry seemed to be a little hesitant. Draco wasn't surprised. A lion and a snake fighting each other? Probably not a good start for a date between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. Even though this of course wasn't a date. _Stop getting your hopes up, Malfoy. You'll end up like the lion and the snake!_

"I like it", Harry finally mumbled.

"Come again?" Maybe she had seen something else, than he had. Or it was her way to make him back away. Her way of telling him, she wasn't interested, which of course she wasn't, but... _There is no "but". She isn't interested, full stop._

Harry had started to blush a little. Adorable.

"Honestly I don't know anything about art", she confessed, while flushing even more, "I can't say anything else about it than _I like it_ and _it looks interesting_ "

Draco internally winced. Of course he had fallen for someone who wasn't interested in art...

On the other hand, her ignorance was somewhat enchanting...

He had two possibilities: Letting it go and accepting her lack of knowledge – or doing his best to teach her more about it. He really was tempted to do the former. _Egoist!_ She probably wouldn't like that. _That's right. It was a stupid idea to bring her here in the first place. She already hates it._

Maybe this was just the wrong type of art?

The next room was filled with paintings. Black and white portraits of famous witches and wizards, everyone knew, if only from the chocolate frog cards. Boring. Except... "They don't move", Harry remarked irritated. She had shown interest in an exhibit! - And she was right. Even though their quality was exceptional, and everyone looked almost alive, they were just paintings like muggles drew them, motionless, still.

"What do you think?", he asked her as gently as he could. Maybe, hopefully, she'd like them, understand them, so they could share their views and discuss and... _Stop prompting her! You're getting on her nerves and very likely making her less confident._

"I don't get them" She sounded a little sorry, but maybe that was just wishful

thinking. Maybe she really was just annoyed. _Why are you so disappointed? Even Luna doesn't like discussing art. And this isn't a Ravenclaw with a passion for theorising. It's Harry Potter!_

Maybe they'd better leave now.

It really had been a stupid idea from the start. He had been stupid to believe...

"Hey", Harry said, when he turned to leave the room, "What do you think about it?"

He froze before slowly turning around. She was still standing between the portraits she didn't get. Did she really want to know? Or was this just an attempt to be polite?

He searched her face for answers and only saw genuine interest.

One last chance to... _do what? Turn her into the one you're wishing for?_

He really shouldn't think like that. He liked Harry, would always like her, even if it would turn out, that they had nothing in common.

He prepared to be called ridiculous, while he tried to gather his thoughts. Portraits, that didn't move...

"I guess, it is about our habits. We're used to see portraits move, interact and sometimes even talk about us. Here, it's just the barest fundament of all of that, but we actually don't need more to get an idea of those peoples' personalities. And... one could maybe even argue that this way of depicting them was more respectful and more honest"

He waited for her to laugh, shake her head or simply leave. He had gotten all of these reactions over time, till he didn't talk about art anymore. This was an exception and he already regretted it.

Harry... Harry didn't laugh. She was looking at the portraits, as if she saw them for the first time. A soft smile started to grow on her face, like a small flower, blossoming and beautiful.

After a while they silently entered the next room.

A teapot that was halfway transformed into a duck was tightly hugged by the statue of a wizard, who was softly petting the duck's head, where the feathers bordered at blue porcelain.

Draco didn't dare to look at Harry. He liked, what he saw, but she probably... "What do you think?", she asked with a soft smile. Again? She wanted him to talk about a piece of art again? This had never happened before.

"I think, it tells us that something doesn't have to be perfect to hold on to it, maybe even to love it" _Which is just the message you're currently wanting to convey, isn't it? Malfoy, when will you finally learn to be subtler?!_

"It could also tell us to stop judging everything based on appearances. We see a messed up transfiguration, but it could be so much more than this. It certainly is to the wizard..."

_Stop dreaming. Neither a wizard nor a witch would ever be capable of loving you. There is a level of messed up, that is too messed up be amiable. Besides: You weren't formed to be the one you are today. You chose and you chose wrongly._

Harry, who had been watching the wizard, turned around to look at him. "Do you think they are happy?", she asked thoughtfully. Neither the wizard nor the tea-duck had a face, but something about the way they were moving... "I hope so", he said hesitantly, trying to push away his own feelings to find a better answer, "I believe they are" The statue rose its head to nod.

Harry laughed.

Somehow they started to do this in every room. Harry gave him a little time to look at the exhibits, asked him, what he thought, sometimes followed by a few more questions, sometimes just followed by a smile.

He wasn't sure, what it meant. Was she still trying to be polite? Was she trying to figure out, why he had brought her to this place? Or was she maybe really curious about the art?

He had no idea, even though he somehow enjoyed it.

Thinking and interpreting art always calmed him down and every smile Harry flashed him, increased the warm feeling in his stomach.

Eventually they reached the entrance hall again.

Had he really talked to her about everything in the gallery? _Yes, you have and now she is exhausted and probably hates you for wasting her time._

"You still haven't told me your thoughts on the first room", Harry said. Was she messing with him? No, she somehow sounded curious. Okay... well, if his explanations bored her, one last room probably wouldn't hurt that much anymore... They re-entered it.

"So ... what do you think? What do you see?", Harry asked. Her voice warm and patient, her green eyes looking right into his soul.

A golden lion and a silver snake, circling each other. Draco watched the snake loop around the lion. They were fighting, right? Gryffindor and Slytherin always fought... Except... Maybe he had been wrong, when he had made up his mind before. Maybe they weren't enemies. He tried to be open. From this point of view, they weren't lurking, they were dancing. The snake looping around the lion wasn't trying to choke its enemy, it was trying to be closer to its... friend. Or maybe even its lover. The snake moved its face, to look at the lion, until... they almost kissed.

Probably, Draco was too much in love, to be objective, but... that was, what he saw. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor, who were capable of loving each other, who... How could he even try to explain this?

He rose his head to look at Harry's face, which was glowing with anticipation. Slowly he walked towards her, gently taking her hand to intertwine their fingers.

"That's what I see", he whispered.

They didn't kiss.

But she also didn't let go of his hand.

Not, while they were walking back into the entrance hall, not while they apparated to a street near Hermione and Ron's house.

They stopped at a crossroad, watching cars drive by. Fifteen minutes, till they would enter the house of two of Harry's best friends.

"Do you really want me to accompany you?", Draco said calmly. "Of course", Harry mumbled, still facing the street. He could see, how she started to become more nervous with every passing second.

"I'm sorry that I forced you to do something, you weren't interested in"

He wasn't sure, why he said so. Partly because it was true, partly to distract both of them, he guessed. And maybe, just a little bit, because she was still holding his hand. Harry turned around and smiled at him.

"At first I really wasn't interested in this place", she confessed, "And I guess, I still wouldn't visit a gallery on my own, but... I loved it, Draco! You showed me a place full of strange ideas and things and you turned it into art. I never thought, that was possible. I never even knew, that you..."

"That I'm an art-geek?"

She shook her head.

"That you can see beauty in everything"

He was pretty sure, that he was blushing. Judging by the feeling that his cheeks were burning, he was probably scarlet by now.

She was wrong, of course she was, but ... He loved, that she thought so.

Maybe he hadn't wasted their time after all.

"When this is over", she gestured around the corner towards Hermione and Ron's house, "I'd really like to do this again"

She wanted to meet him again, even when she had talked to Hermione and Ron today? Really? And it wasn't just meeting... She wanted to accompany him to places she normally wouldn't go to? Unbelievable.

He felt like he was about to fly.

He definitely hadn't wasted their time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As always, feel free to comment ;-)


	11. The elevent in the room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is intense.  
> It is also much more inspired by JKR, than most of the other Chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!  
> I hope, you're doing alright.  
> I started to write this Chapter in June - I finished it yesterday. 
> 
> Warning: You might want to revisit the tags before reading this. Proceed with caution.

"Are you sure you want me to be there?", Draco asked for the – what was it? - the probably fifth time within the past ten minutes.

"Yes"

"I don't want to make things more awkward than they have to be" _And they hate you._

"I need you"

Once again, Draco said, it was fine. He felt his heart beat. Fast and strongly, almost painfully so. His hands got a little sweaty. Nervous. He was nervous. Of course he was.

They were standing in front of the house of Harry's two closest friends.

Wasn't it strange, how fast – and how slowly - time could pass by? Those fifteen minutes had felt longer than the hours Harry and he had spent in the gallery. He caught her watching him and flashed her a smile. They would be fine.

She nodded and pressed a button next to the door. He heard a ringing inside. Now they knew, Harry was there. No return. Well... of course he could apparate now, but Harry couldn't.

Was it a bad thing, that it felt hard to stay, anyway? Even though Harry claimed, she needed him by her side... He was much too used to escaping, to running away. _Coward._

The door opened.

"Hey" Ron's face was just as freckled Draco remembered it to be. Harry hastily stepped in front of him. "Hi Ron, nice to see you, I uhm- I hope you don't mind that I brought _a friend_?"

Judging by how quickly she talked, she was nervous as well. Of course she was. Even though her nervousness was probably not caused by the same fears as Draco's.

Anyway... Maybe it was stupid, that Draco's heart skipped a beat, but... A friend. Harry had called him a friend. Which of course wasn't the same as "my friend" or "my best friend" or "my boyfriend"... _Dream on! She's just trying to keep matters simple. You are not a friend of hers, she just doesn't want to explain the whole story._ Still, it was more than he had ever dreamt of a few days ago.

Ron yawned. "Sorry", he said, "Yeah, just come in, I guess, Hermione made me bake enough cookies for twenty so, ..."

Draco tried not to imagine Ron baking. They really had been in potion classes together for too many years – he could picture Ron's hopeful and slightly devastated expression when something went wrong, far too good.

The door fully opened, Harry stepped inside.

"Wait", Ron exclaimed, half a second later, "That's Malfoy"

Draco couldn't help smirking. As if Harry didn't know!

He saw Harry's smile pale slightly, before she faked a laugh. "Yes, it's Malfoy – Draco Malfoy. Is Hermione in the living room?"

Without waiting for an answer, she went down the corridor, leaving Draco in front of Ron, who kept staring at him. For a second, he thought, Weasley would just slam the door in his face. Ron probably had similar thoughts.

After a few more moments Weasley shook his head and gestured vaguely to the house. "Whatever. Come in, will you?"

Best, not to argue with a temperamental redhead. Even with one, who was looking as tired as Ron Weasley right now.

He followed him through the same corridor, Harry had just walked down. The house seemed to be small but comfortable – though his idea of small might differ from most peoples' views... the first rather small housing space he had ever lived in was his flat. _So arrogant, so spoiled. No wonder, Weasley isn't pleased to see you here._

When they entered the living room, Harry was already sitting on an armchair, chatting away with Hermione who was pouring tea into mismatching cups.

"Harry has brought someone", Ron said with an uncharacteristically neutral voice. Hermione briefly looked up. "Yes, he has already told me", she replied. Draco tried, not to flinch at the "he". She didn't know, they were here to avoid just this kind of casual statements.

He looked at Harry, who was taking the cup, Hermione offered her and nodded softly. Apparently they started to think alike. _Or she has already forgotten that you are here and is nodding at Ron or Hermione, you know, at one of her_ real _friends._

He tried to smile through his feeling of discomfort, took the cup of tea, Hermione handed him, sat down on the armchair next to Harry's and listened to their small talk.

Apparently Ron was helping one of his brothers in the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes joke shop in Diagon Alley. He gladly told a few stories about his clients, that made all of them laugh.

"- but you don't have to worry, these cookies are totally save", he assured them after an especially spicy story in which hexed Canary Creams had played a big part.

Draco was painfully aware, that they hadn't come to talk about joke shops and eat cookies – save or hexed ones – but it wasn't his story to tell, either. He took a sip from his tea and waited.

The room was a quiet now, but the echo of their laughter still seemed to stick around. He still felt that bubbly and warm feeling in his stomach – or maybe this was just the nervousness...?

"There is something, I have to tell you", Harry stuttered.

The room's atmosphere changed immediately. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, but suddenly everything felt more serious. He watched Hermione and Ron, who in turn were watching Harry. They were still sitting close to each other on the coach, but they weren't not-so-secretly-flirting anymore.

"You aren't dating Malfoy, are you!" Draco couldn't help starring at Ron's face. _You already knew they hate you. Get over it, nobody likes a crybaby._

"Rude", he exclaimed as calmly as possible. He could almost see the growing tension. Harry had stiffened at Ron's comment, but she talked on. Such a Gryffindor!

"It's not about dating"

Draco fought the sudden urge to hug her, or at least hold her hand. There was no point in contradicting her statement by being touchy. Not now.

She paused for a second to look at him. He gave her a reassuring nod. She smiled nervously, before resuming to speak.

"It's about who I am. I know, that might sound weird, but I'm not the boy who lived – I am not a boy or a man or a wizard at all. I'm a witch"

Draco knew, how long she had thought about these words. _She is so much braver than you could ever be!_ That's okay. She is Harry Potter.

Everything was silent.

He felt her grow more tense with every passing second.

"So what is that about, dude", Ron finally said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I... I'm a... a woman", Harry stuttered, "S-so she / her pronouns a-and..."

"No. I mean, what is this really about" Malfoy wanted to punch him. "Do you want attention? Another headline?"

"Ron", Hermione exclaimed.

Maybe she was alright.

"I'm sure, Harry is merely confused. He has just beaten Voldemort. This could be his way of coping with the trauma or his PTSD"

Or maybe she was just as judgemental as Ron.

"I'm not traumatized", Harry said, "And I'm not pretending"

Draco felt more and more impressed. While he was internally debating, who he wanted to punch first, she remained impossibly calm and patient.

"That's rubbish. Is that your way of being able to enter women's bathrooms and dressing-rooms? Aren't there enough willing girls waiting at your front door?"

Oh, he would punch him. Feel his nose break under his fist. _So violent! The Dark Lord would be proud of you... If you wouldn't do it for the enemy!_ They should leave. This discussion would only hurt Harry more.

But she wasn't done yet. "Okay, let's just pretend I was a creepy pervert: There are about a thousand other ways to get into those rooms. I' ve got an invisibility cloak. I could use polyjuice potion. Why should I use the most difficult way of all? And by the way, I don't want to enter these rooms in order to watch other women! In fact, I don't care for women. I'm into men."

Draco made a mental notice, to be happy about that later.

"So you just don't want to be gay", Ron said.

That was enough. He could vaguely hear Hermione talk about growing up in a difficult family, losing a father-figure and trying to escape expectations set by society. He didn't care, but Harry did. He could see something die inside of her. Get her out! Now!

Without thinking, he threw his cup against the wall. It shattered, splinters falling in all directions. Everyone turned to stare at him.

Hermione, Ron, ... and Harry.

"Now that I have your attention: Fuck you! Let's go, Harry"

He took her shaking hand into his own and they apparated back to Grimmauld Place.

The last thing he saw of Weasley, Granger and their house was the new spot at the wall, where his tea was slowly dripping down.

*

They stumbled inside, into the darkness.

Draco heard her breathe, felt her hand in his.

They moved to a saloon, sat down on the carpet, fingers intertwined. He lit some candles, before silently waiting for her to say something. _Too scared to talk, Malfoy?_

Draco wasn't sure, if she even wanted to speak about it.

She had started to sob silently.

Usually he'd just go on with waiting till she'd speak. But he somehow doubted, that would work this time.

Say something! Distract her!

"So you are into boys?", he asked smugly.

She rose her head to shoot him a glance.

"I mean... before starting socially transitioning you dated Cho and Ginny. You are basically going from being straight to being straight. Are you sure, you aren't internally homophobic?"

Harry stiffened.

"Gosh, sorry – I didn't mean to – It was a joke", Draco stuttered. _You really can't help being an unsympathetic ignorant jerk, can you?_

She relaxed a little, took his hand into hers'.

"I know it was meant to be a joke. It just made me think of this strange _why can't you just be gay_ comment, you know?"

He apologized again, feeling her fingertips on the palm of his hand. They were so warm and soft...

"Would you mind going on a date with me?", he blurted out.

She made a strange noise, something between laughing and crying.

"You don't really mean that", Harry said matter-of-factly, "I don't even look like a proper woman"

Deep green eyes, jet black hair, soft skin, a beginning blush, ...

"You look pretty and gorgeous and beautiful in every way", Draco replied honestly.

She turned to look at him, green eyes searching his face.

He let her stare as long as she wanted to.

Suddenly he was pressed against the wall, her lips on his, her fingers in his hair, petting and pulling. He was frozen, feeling her tongue on his mouth, feeling, feeling. It was too much and not enough at the same time. One of her hands slipped under his shirt.

Stop panicking, stop panicking, please, don't!

Harry's other hand roughly pulled on a stray of his hair.

He gasped, as the pain shot through his body.

Her tongue slipped into his mouth.

He tasted lemons, tea and her.

Black dots danced in front of his vision.

The hand under his shirt touched one of his scars.

She deepened the kiss even more.

His body instinctively moved along.

But his mind didn't.

His heart was beating way too fast, his knees began to buckle.

He was falling.

Was he fainting?

"Please", Draco whimpered, "Stop, don't, please"

He felt sick.

She let him go, but was still too close.

"I thought you like me?", Harry said, "or was that just pity?"

He felt her breath on his lips.

Please, let me go, let me go, let me go

She turned around and left the room.

He forced himself to breathe, before following her.

"Harry! I really like you, a lot. I just don't want it like this. Not because it is a way to cope or forget"

She didn't reply.

"You are absolutely valid, I'm sorry, I'm an idiot"

The moment she disappeared behind another door, his knees gave way.

He sank to the floor, wondering how much this had ruined.

And maybe he cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... so...?  
> I usually write "hope you enjoyed", but... I honestly don't know, if these are the right words for this Chapter.  
> Thank you for reading, anyway. Feel free to comment.


	12. It's all decided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!  
> As we are nearing the point, where English numbers become redundant (thirteen, fourteen, ...) and last Chapter already changed a lot about the next part of the story (as you might have guessed), I decided to change my method of naming Chapters, as well.  
> Every new title references a song, that fits a character, a situation, a feeling, ... Feel free to interpret and speculate.  
> That said, the first song is "Who Wants To Live Forever" by Queen. 
> 
> Anyway, let's get started...

One day. Twenty-five hours. Which meant, it had been more than a day.

Time was a meaningless construct, created by humans.

Had it been muggles or magicians, who had come up with this concept?

He couldn't remember.

Sleep. He just wanted to sleep, to lose consciousness, to forget about everything.

But he couldn't.

_Your fault!_

Once again, Draco tried to ignore those thoughts. And the shame. And the memories of what he had done and what he hadn't. He had screamed at two of Harry's closest friends and thereby eliminated any chance of a sensible conversation. He had even damaged their wallpaper and broken one of their cups. If they wanted to think, Harry was confused by some kind of a damaging influence, he had given them every reason to suspect they were right and this influence was him. Even though they had already been prejudiced, making them understand would now be a thousand times harder than before. He had insulted them. Yes, he had done it in order to protect Harry, but in hindsight... it had been childish. He had worsened the situation a lot.

Strangely enough, what he hadn't done, was even worse. He was able to come up with apologies for almost everything he had done, but there was nothing he could think of, to justify his lack of actions. Despite everything, Harry James Potter had acted. She had asked him for support, for reassurance, maybe not verbally, but she had asked him nonetheless. He hadn't comforted her the way he should have; he had been ignorant. _Don't forget about the worst part: You have left her! She is alone now, all by herself. What if she can't cope? She can't talk to you and you are the only one, who knows. She is completely isolated and she is hurt. And you know what? It's your fault! You are the one to blame, it's all your fault, if anything happens to her._ But he couldn't return, either. She'd never accept his apology, especially as he didn't have the right words to explain.

It was all too much. How was he supposed to go on, how could he ever hope to be... Worth any forgiveness at all?

If he just had a chance to... But no, it was too late, he had messed up, no excuses, no going back.

Everyone said, being kissed by a Dementor was the worst thing that could happen. He had always agreed with them. - But right now? He'd gladly offer his soul to a Dementor, if the opportunity presented. Hell, wouldn't that be hilariously ironic?! Accepting a kiss as the true punishment for... well... reacting poorly to a kiss. _Come on, Malfoy, think, for once in your life! It was much more than just a kiss._

He knew that. Of course he knew that. That was, why he wasn't sure, how to go on. This definitely hadn't simply been a kiss... But then again, what kind of a first kiss was just a kiss? _... and many first kisses go wrong? This is, what you're trying to get at? Stop trying to defend yourself, Malfoy! You've been coming up with those weak apologies all day. It doesn't work!_

Was it acceptable, to kiss someone just because one liked the feeling...? Probably. It was likely, that kissing someone because kissing felt nice happened a lot. He was also sure, many people kissed others because they wanted to distract themselves. What was the difference between those reasons anyway? In fact, why was it so important, why they did, what they did, as long as it wasn't because of love?! _And the only right reason for kissing someone is love? Which renders her kiss meaningless, so Harry has no reason to be mad at you?! This is ridiculous! You know, that she has every right in the world, to hate you right now._

Why was he still wondering about things like that? He should have been focussed on finding a good apology, but he wasn't concentrated at all. A small, but terrible part of him was even fascinated. He really didn't know enough about that kind of... or actually any kind of showing feelings. The longer he thought about it... Was he really that messed up? _And your reaction was even less than poorly. Are you sure, you have got a soul you could give to the Dementors?_

He hadn't meant to behave the way he had, he had just wanted to... _Yes? What did you want so badly that this was worth it? Being alone and feeling so guilty and ashamed? Crying and crying till your eyes are all red and swollen?_

He had just wanted to...

But he wasn't allowed to want anything.

He had to do something, anything to redeem himself, to make amends, after everything he had done. Everything _bad._ Not only yesterday – or rather the day before yesterday; it had been twenty-five hours, after all. The day before yesterday was only a part of the giant pile of days when he had hurt someone. One could pick any random day within the last three years. No matter which day one was looking at – there was a hundred percent chance that he'd done something unforgivable on this day. _You were a teenager! You thought, it was a joke!_ But the people, he had hurt, also had been teenagers. Many of them had even been younger than he himself. _You're still a teenager. Maybe you aren't old enough to understand._ He was an adult. He had to act responsibly. Even though he was a bad person.

Guilty in so many ways... Still... Even though he'd never be able to repay all of his victims...

Redeeming himself to Harry might at least count for something. Not enough, it would never be enough, but maybe...

He would do everything he had to.

But how? What could he do?

He felt something inside of him shift. Finally, he became more rational, less emotional. Just like his father had taught him to be. _"Feelings ruin your judgement"_

Healing worked best, when one focussed on the wound. If he wanted to redeem himself, he at first had to understand, how – or where – Harry was hurt. _Trying to be a cunning Slytherin, aren't you? But deep down you know, that you are broken. Not brave or ruthless or tough enough._

Maybe he had to try to see the bigger picture. How had he hurt her? By being selfish, by rejecting her. But Harry was too strong, to be hurt by _his_ rejection. She had been that vulnerable, because...

For a moment, he thought about Ron and Hermione. If he'd... no.

No, threatening Harry's friends – or at last, her former friends – for sure wouldn't turn him into a better person. _What kind of a psychopath even considers doing something like that?_

Something else, something else.

Harry was coming out to her friends, one by one, because... of the biographies! Perhaps, if he threatened the author... _Psychopath_!

No, again, that wouldn't help. Even though it might help Harry, it would only demonstrate, how evil he was. And she rightfully despised evil people. He also didn't know, who this author could be...

_Give it up, this is hopeless!_

Dead ends, dead ends, dead ends, everywhere.

This wasn't a labyrinth, this was a prison. His personal Azkaban.

No way to ever be free, no way to escape.

Escape...

He had always escaped difficult situations, just like his father always did. Probably in a less refined way, with much more running and much less pretending, but both ways were equally cowardly.

His father... Who was probably killing muggles right now, with his Death Eater friends. Nobody knew, how many of them had gotten away, but some of them were still out there.

The Death Eaters!

They killed people, threatened them into submission, they always fought against anything good, against Harry.

Harry. 

Harry James Potter was their greatest enemy.

Once again, she had defeated their leader. It was her fault, that they had to hide. They were hunted by the government, a group of aurors was constantly searching them. If there was someone, who the Death Eaters hated and feared, it was Harry.

Every big ploy against her had been designed by the Death Eaters.

So what if...

No, impossible.

But what if...! No, that was ridiculous!

Someone had done it, though.

Maybe they knew about Harry's secret.

Voldemort had been able to enter her mind, he could easily have noticed something unusual. Something like female thinking patterns or her determination to behave as masculine as possible in order to hide her true self. The longer Draco thought about it, the surer he got. Voldemort must have known. It would explain a lot about the Dark Lord's lack of caution around her. Why else would Voldemort have duelled her time after time? Even though, her death would have had a symbolic value, Voldemort had never truly feared her. Not like Dumbledore or even the Order of the Phoenix. No... the only obvious reason for Voldemort's dark plans in the last two years had been something else: The Dark Lord loved symbolism. He had even forbidden to kill her, had said, he wanted to do it himself. He must have believed, that she had broken the prophecy by being a woman.

So what if Voldemort had told someone? What if he had... As a backup plan, something he wanted to keep in mind, if he wouldn't be able to catch her in the regular way. Maybe as a bait, maybe just to cause her pain. The Dark Lord was a sadist, after all.

What if the biographies had been his idea?

Seven books about the rise and dooming downfall of Harry Potter. It sounded like something, the Dark Lord would think of. Again: he liked symbolism, if he saw a chance to defeat someone by telling their story, he would take it. There were even more clues: The Dark Lord himself had turned his old diary into a Horcrux, into one of seven planned Horcruxes. He truly understood the power of memories. And he believed in the power of the magic number seven.

Draco could almost see it, how the Dark Lord learnt about Harry's real gender, how he decided to keep this information close to the chest in case he could use it against her later on.

Voldemort usually kept completely quiet about his plans. This time, however, he had told someone about his idea. At least one of those Death Eaters, who were neither dead, nor imprisoned, knew.

They liked revenge, they were used to act on the Dark Lord's command, they would do it... - Talk to someone from the ministry of magic, maybe using the Imperiatus curse, suggest writing seven biographies about Harry Potter, biographies, that might harm her...

It had to be them, Draco was sure.

Of course it could already be too late, to stop them. On the other hand... Death Eaters usually hated to give up control. If they really had used the Imperiatus curse against one of the workers at the ministry of magic, they probably still controlled them.

Maybe Draco would be able to stop these biographies from being published!

He could redeem himself to Harry! - Maybe.

He just had to hunt down, catch and threaten a group of dangerous mass-murderers - one of them his own father – till they made the ministry of magic stop writing the seven most awaited books of the century.

Sure thing.

He immediately started to prepare.

*

Not even ten minutes after his initial thought, Draco left his flat.

He for sure hadn't packed everything he'd need – that was, what he'd need, if the Death Eaters weren't at Draco's first destination: Malfoy Manor.

It – hopefully - wasn't a too farfetched theory. Malfoy Manor had already been their main quarter once, it had enough rooms to house a bigger group. Yes, they had prepared to leave this place, when he had left them, but that had been more than a month ago. A lot could happen within a month.

As he disapparated in the corridor, he wondered, if on another day he would have found it amusing, how unusual this situation made him behave. He was a Slytherin and the cowardly son of a coward. He was a born and nurtured thinker and planner.

And even though all of that still was true, he had left his flat without more than the vague plan of returning to his childhood home.

Well, yes, maybe he would have thought it entertaining – if this place weren't Malfoy Manor.

Honestly, it didn't depend on his mood... - Nothing about that place had ever been amusing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As always, feel free to comment ;-)


	13. Below the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! 
> 
> This Chapter's title is a reference to Octopus's Garden by The Beatles  
> \- The Song is fun; the Chapter is dark; don't be mislead, proceed with caution

Draco stumbled over his own feet and almost landed head-first in a bed of poisonous roses. Apparently he had misjudged when he had tried to apparate. At least he hadn't ended up directly in between the plants. His mother had a strange passion for extremely dangerous flora. Most of the park was the living equivalent of his father's collection of cursed items. Carefully he entered the small lane between the beds, trees and hedges. If he had the right location in mind, he'd have to walk this path for about ten minutes, till he'd reach the Manor. At least there was a silver lining:

Ten minutes to walk also meant ten more minutes to think about an explanation for why he had returned – in case he'd need one. Of course asking his parents directly about the Death Eaters' plans would make that part obsolete, but his father didn't like questions. _He'd better answer, if he doesn't want to feel all the pain you can put him through. He has always been too weak. You know the spell, Draco, it'd be so easy._ If he wanted to get an answer, he'd wait.

He had been walking for about two minutes, when a thick, thorny tendril looped around his throat. Instinctively, he tried to fight it. It tightened, thorns digging into the tender skin of his neck. Important lessons of Herbology, part one: Be observant! _Important lessons of Mad Eye Moody: It doesn't matter if you're paranoid, one day they'll gonna get you!_ This really was neither the time nor the place for internal debates...

_Finally coming to your senses, aren't you, Malfoy? Enjoying the drama? What an unexpected way of dying! Being strangled by a plant... You know, maybe you should consider to get the gardeners fired!_

Draco forced his body to limp. To his great relief, this tendril wasn't excreting any poisonous slime – at least it wasn't excreting anything, as far as he could tell without being able to examine it more closely. Which of course still meant, that he was possibly already poisoned... But he wouldn't focus on that right now. The thorns themselves could be poisonous, but as long as they didn't penetrate his skin, he'd be okay – well... as long as he wasn't strangled or impaled. He breathed flatly, while he tried to remember the right way of escaping this tendril. Most of their plants hated fire, but it might also react by strangling him. He knew, that a few tendrils hated ice, but again: Provoking it might lead to unforeseen reactions.

Calm down, think!

If he'd get rid of the thorns without injuring himself, he hopefully wouldn't have to brew an antidote. But how?

Neville Longbottom. He was good at handling plants. Not by being remarkably aggressive or by knowing more than anyone else. In fact, Neville tended to be pretty clumsy. In most situations, Draco would have hated to think about it, but... What would Neville do now?

He also hated his own answer. At least it was something he could try without the risk of accidentally burning down the park.

"Hello", he said loudly, "My name is Draco Malfoy. It is very nice to meet you" Strangely enough, this wasn't even the weirdest thing he had ever done in Herbology. In a way, this was very close to the everyday life at Hogwarts. One really couldn't help learning a few polite remarks in an old magic castle, where some doors only opened if they gained enough compliments on their exquisitely shaped knob. - Literally.

The tendril seemed to move a little. "Normally I don't like plants that much, but I must say, you are exceptionally beautiful" Hopefully it wouldn't feel attacked by his remark on other plants... Manipulating tendrils really wasn't that easy. He waited for a split second before continuing. "Anyway, I hope, you're having a good time at this part of the park" The tendril shivered. Draco froze, praying that the thorns wouldn't enter his skin. "Well... I am really glad, that I had the chance of making your acquaintance. If you need anything at all, just... uhm... ask, okay? I could for example... ask the gardener for a little more... uhm... fertilizer for you. Yes, I guess, that might be the start of a wonderful friendship"

Come to think about it, were there any of their gardeners left? Draco was pretty sure, that many of them had quit... Anyway, as long as the tendril didn't know about this little detail, he wouldn't overthink it. Instead he made an attempt of a carefree and confident smile. Finally, the tendril limped, pulled back, let him go. _This plant truly is like a Malfoy should be, isn't it? Threatening and playing its victims, till it gets everything it desires. Only more successfully._

This time, Draco made a conscious effort of ducking, every time branches and tendrils hung over the path. The park really had started to become more wild over the last months.

Neville would have loved it. Maybe Draco could show him around one day, to bond over carnivorous tulips and murderous apple trees. _Neville wouldn't want to accompany you, least of all places to Malfoy Manor._ Well, now, that Luna and Neville were dating... _Harry will warn Luna of trusting you. She doesn't even need to tell her everything. If it's your word against Harry's, who would you think she'd rather believe? The Death Eater or the hero?_

Well, he had other things to focus on right now, anyway.

While he was walking on, he tried to remember, what exactly the tendril had looked like and at the same time searched his skin for wounds. Nothing. - As far as he could tell, it hadn't pierced his skin. Which was good, right? He would be alright, wouldn't he?

Did he feel any different?

He wasn't sure. How was he supposed to feel?

He wanted to believe, that he was feeling normal. And that was true, right? He wasn't feeling any different at all.

A little more tired, maybe, he had a headache, his feet hurt. Were that symptoms of being poisoned by this tendril?

He also hadn't panicked, when the plant had threatened to kill him, even though he usually would have. But that was a good thing... - right? He was getting better. Or the tendrill had drugged him. Was that possible? A venom, that was already running through his veins, slowing down his pulse? No, his pulse was racing right now. _Maybe, because you are panicking._

He was fine, everything was fine. He'd be fine. No reason to be upset.

He'd just have to hope for the best and look this plant up as soon as possible.

The house was empty. His parents had left without any intention of revisiting Malfoy Manor anytime soon.

Their absence became obvious, when the trap in the entrance hall almost beheaded him. Even though Draco wouldn't put it past his parents, to live in between deadly traps, he knew they would settle for other kinds than raining axes if they had stayed. Nobody liked to come across bloody corpses. The only reason, Draco himself hadn't been killed, was, that he had stumbled over the threshold and thereby inelegantly rolled over the floor - past the falling weapons. For a few seconds he sat on the ground, marvelling at his unbelievable luck.

For good measure he still searched the house. Instead of humans, he found a considerable amount of other traps. He destroyed all of them. At least the traps reminded him, that security was important. He put a few spells on himself that made him undetectable and used the same spells, that he usually put on his flat, on the Manor. The former would also prevent any owls from finding him. No Daily Prophet, no news on the magic community – well, that was a pity, but he couldn't risk owl post, as long as he might have overlooked any traps.

_This doesn't change the fact, that your parents aren't here. Which means, you have spectacularly failed. Wasn't finding them the only reason you came here in the first place?!_

Come to think about it, his parents' absence wasn't surprising at all. Both of his parents were searched for engaging in dark magic. He had read about the trials against a few other Death Eaters in the Daily Prophet. They had directly blamed his family for providing financial resources to the Dark L- Voldemort. _Even now you can't help thinking about him as_ your _Dark Lord, your idol, your hero, can you? You would have done anything for him, till this old fool Dumbledore started noticing you_. He pressed his fingers to his temples, as if he could physically hold his thoughts back.

Of course his parents wouldn't be able to live here, while a group of aurors was looking for them. They were probably with a few other Death Eaters again – they liked being part of a group after all- but they wouldn't want to reside in their own Manor. It was much more likely, that they were living in a muggle town, a place that didn't have an obvious connection to any of them, but provided enough muggles for their favourite little games. Ideal circumstances for humiliating, hunting, torturing, killing, just like he had already imagined them to pass their days, countless times before.

Somewhere deep down he had already known, that finding them would be more difficult than just going to the place he grew up at.

_So why did you come here?_

_You are wasting time._

He had-

_Coward._

No! No, he wasn't... that was not... He-

_You'd like to pretend, wouldn't you?_

_Draco Lucius Malfoy, the hero, the one, who at the same time hunted down Death Eaters, made Harry Potter happy and proved himself worthy. You know, what all of those things have in common, Malfoy?_

He was ready to do anything, he wasn't... He was brave! He was strong! _Brave? Strong? Are you?_

_Come on, Malfoy, you of all people should know, that you aren't brave or strong. You are a liar! All of those things? Lies. You and a hero? Not in a million years. Hunting down Death Eaters? You'll thank Merlin if they won't find you till the end of the year. You can't make Potter happy. You have hurt her! So many times, it was a miracle that she was even willing to listen to you for a few moments! And you spoiled all of it. Lies, lies, lies, so many obvious lies._

No

_You are really just a pathetic little coward, telling pathetic little lies, just like your father._

No

_One thing; Malfoy, you were right about one thing: Finally you can show, how much you are worth: Nothing! You'll archive nothing, this will mean nothing, you are nothing._

He had to... he would...!

He apparated to a nearby muggle town and startled a shop owner by buying every newspaper and taking five minutes to figure his money out.

He would find them, he was sure. Even if it would make him read muggle news in order to get clues.

As he was leaving the shop, he was fairly certain, he heard the owner mumble something about overly enthusiastic foreigners, who would buy anything for a souvenir.

He disapparated in a dark alley, the arms full of newspapers, that he dropped, once he was back in Malfoy Manor.

Souvenies, huh?

As if he'd want to remember anything at all...

Looking at the unmoving pictures felt like a punishment in itself.

 _"Hey", Harry said,_ when he finally decided, to brew himself some tea. He'd need the caffeine. _"What do you think about it?"_ "I guess this will get a little difficult", he replied, "I will have to search for patterns of unusual deaths, but the Death Eaters are probably a lot more careful, than-"

He froze, before turning around. She wasn't here. Of course she wasn't. A memory, just a memory. It had been at the Gallery, in the room with... Well, it didn't really matter. The past, it was in the past. He was in the present, he had to focus, even though he was feeling a little light-headed.

He entered the kitchen, started to boil hot water.

_Are you just going to ignore, what just happened? You're going crazy, Malfoy. Just like your aunt, just like your lord and master._

No, he needed to focus. There was no time for psychoanalysis. He had to find them before it was too late. Finally he realized, that being fast maybe wouldn't be enough. If the aurors were faster, he wouldn't get a chance of stopping the publishing of the biographies.

He had to get back to work, find a trace, find them.

Draco gulped his tea, and went back. Missed persons, unsolved murders, unexplainable events.

He kept searching. Sometimes he felt like there might be a connection. There were a few "perfect crimes" – how could a crime be perfect, anyway, wasn't that an oxymoron – here and there, but all in all he still hadn't found an answer.

Maybe the Death Eaters kept changing their position.

Maybe they had found a way to keep muggles from noticing any missing friends and family members.

Maybe they weren't hunting at all, or had gotten much less violent... Well the last one didn't sound that convincing...

Still... there were a thousand possibilities.

He was wasting his time.

He had to come up with a better way of finding them.

Just like before.

He felt so tired of failing. Quickly, he stood up, waved all those newspapers into the fireplace and went to the bathroom. Maybe splashing some cold water into his face would help him to focus.

Suddenly he felt dizzy.

The room started spinning, faster and faster.

Black dots were dancing in front of his eyes.

He was falling, falling, fainting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope, you enjoyed this Chapter; feel free to comment ;-)


	14. The weight of the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!  
> This Chapter's title is a reference to "The Mighty Echo" by The Family Crest  
> By the way: I have added a few Characters to the Tags - some of them were over due, some of them will appear later on

The floor was cold.

He opened his eyes, saw white stone. The ground, the walls.

The walls melted in front of his eyes, turned into a part of the floor.

Even though they didn't melt at all.

He saw both of it at the same time.

His head hurt.

He was lying on the floor.

This was wrong.

He tried to stand up.

He felt dizzy.

He carefully lay back on the floor, closed his eyes, waited.

It hit him, then and there: He had had contact with a possibly poisonous tendril. He had wanted to look it up. And he had forgotten to do so.

He had fainted and he still couldn't get up without feeling dizzy and he was all alone and vulnerable and this was Malfoy Manor, by Merlin, his former home and he was hunting his parents and the aurors were hunting his parents and-

Breathe.

He had to breathe.

It was important to stay calm.

One step at a time.

All he had to do right now was breathe and wait.

Sixty seconds.

He counted them under his breath.

This time, he didn't try to stand up immediately. He slowly rose his upper body, leant on the wall, waited and got up limb by limb.

It worked.

He was still feeling dizzy, but now he was sitting.

Sitting on the ground, looking at the ceiling, waiting, till he'd feel better.

Maybe, hopefully, drinking some water would help.

He would go and search their library for a book on Herbology eventually, but he wouldn't be able to do that right now.

Take your time.

_There is no time. You don't even know, how long you were unconscious. What if you'll miss the opportunity of talking to the Death Eaters?_

He would do anything to prevent that from happening. Just not right now.

_Egoist!_

He had to... he couldn't help it.

As Draco got ready to get up, he marvelled over the fact that even something as simple as _searching their library_ wasn't simple at all. _A life full of complications and burdens. And the biggest complication and burden are you! Fitting, don't you think?_

Yes, searching the library wasn't that easy. For starters, Malfoy Manor didn't house just one library. In fact, there were not less than three great libraries.

The official library was the place where Draco's parents had liked to receive guests. Every auror, who had ever searched Malfoy Manor had seen it. An exquisite collection of socially acceptable books, bounded in green, red and silver leather. Those colours did even reference Gryffindor – weren't the Malfoys a tolerant family? If the visitors had known, how little Draco's parents cared for the books, their conclusions might have been different. Draco was probably the only one who had used the books in years. At least he had opened some of them. Throughout the years many had been helpful for homework. He remembered, that some of the books had been about herbology, but he'd probably need more scientific resources for this than the basic literature of that library.

The forbidden library of Draco's father had been used much more frequently – but if Draco was lucky, he wouldn't have to visit it. It was a dark and dangerous place, where reckless readers would have been attacked by biting, beating and generally aggressive literature – if the readers even made it past Lucius' traps and security measurements.

The third library was the one, Draco dragged himself to now. It was a relatively small room next to his mother's laboratory, where she had distilled substances from her plants. _"Never store knowledge directly next to chemicals that could damage it"_

Draco usually didn't like to think about his mother. He didn't want to admit they had much in common. Of course she was intelligent, calm and dedicated, but she had a terribly cold and pale personality. If he would have to admit, he had inherited something from her, it would have been her passion for potions. But they had never brewed potions together. They had shared an interest – not their time. Well, at least she had spent her time in a meaningful way. If there was something else, he admired about her, it was her care for details.

A huge map in her library listed every plant of the park.

While he tried to remember where the vine had been, the map moved and zoomed in, until he saw the painting of a plant. Long, red thorns shivered threatening. It was just the tendril that had attacked him. While Draco inspected the shape of its thorns, the vine looped around itself , till it formed the words Shadow Claw. _Shadow Claw, a pathetic name for a pathetic plant that pathetically attempted to kill a pathetic boy._

A book jumped out of the shelf, lay on the table next to the map and opened itself.

The pages turned slowly, as if someone was searching carefully.

Finally, the pages shivered one last time and stilled.

The now opened pages displayed a detailed picture of the same plant he had seen on the map.

 **Shadow Claw (also: Midnight Blood vine)** , said the heading.

"Thank you, mum", Draco whispered. He imagined her weaving the magic in her library, her eyes closed in concentration. Not because it made research more comfortable, but to protect the valuable pages of her books. What would she say, if she knew he was using her library? Probably not much.

**Poison: slime excreted by both the thorns and the branches**

**Rating: extremely strong, leads to pain (esp. near the heart), nausea and cramps;**

**in higher doses: causes heart attacks**

**Attention: The tendril only excretes its slime at midnight. From there on it dries fast and turns into a thin layer of harmless bark. Dependant on temperature, location and breeding; this process takes from five minutes to two hours.**

**Antidotes:**

\- Wait... Midnight till about two o' clock am.

That didn't make any sense at all!

He definitely hadn't been near this vine around midnight.

There couldn't have been any poisonous slime left, when the tendril had attacked him.

Which meant, he wasn't poisoned at all!

Unbelievable! How unlikely was it that he had been attacked by a fairly harmless plant? In his mother's park, where every plant was dangerous? _You are stupid enough to be lucky. Wasting your time over and over again._

Stop! If this plant hadn't poisoned him, why did he feel so off? _Still haven't figured it out yet?_

He was tired. He was hallucinating. He slowly felt like nothing made any sense at all.

Exhaustion.

Good to know.

But there was no time for being exhausted, no time to sleep and eat and drink, till he felt better.

He had to be strong.

It was time to make a new plan. For a moment he regretted burning the newspapers, but no, it had been the right decision. They'd only distract him.

He had to find a new starting point.

He tried to imagine the group he was trying to find.

Gifted wizards and witches, who believed in pure blood supremacy. They liked hunting. Many of them knew each other for years. They had grown up together, joined the Death Eaters together and also met in private life. Old blood, traditionalists. They believed in rituals, symbolisms and secrecy.

Harry had defeated their leader. Now how had they reacted? Not all of them had left the Hogwarts grounds at the same time. Some had even escaped the prisons, before the aurors fully controlled them.

For the first time, Draco wondered, how exactly they had met after the battle of Hogwarts. Of course many of them knew each other... but did they though? His father had been one of the richest Death Eaters and had housed the Dark Lord himself – but what about other Death Eaters? The less wealthy, less important ones? Apart from cowards like Draco's parents, those wizards and witches were the most likely to have escaped.

They could have gathered at Malfoy Manor... but after the battle everything had been chaotic. It was unlikely that all of them had visited his parents at the same time. Were there a lot of small groups? Somehow, Draco doubted that. So how had they reorganized?

Death Eaters were horrible people, but most of them believed in family. What if family members were missing? How would they make sure, that their loved ones could contact or find them?

Direct contact via owl-post would be too dangerous, especially as owls could be followed.

The floo-system was too dangerous, as the government could control it. It was also quiet useless, when one had to use muggles' fireplaces.

The Dark Mark certainly was a way to contact others, but aurors could cooperate with traitors; in fact they already had done so in the past.

All in all, direct messages just wouldn't work in the long term... _You only realized that now?! So slow, Malfoy, wasting precious time, all the time._ As long as he was generally thinking in the right direction and there was a way to contact – or find them for outsiders... this meant, they might have left a message in the open.

The most obvious place to provide a message by the Death Eaters was the Daily Prophet. Everyone read the announces. It was legal and not too expensive. Draco liked the idea as a concept, but it was highly unlikely that a Death Eater would use the newspaper to contact others. After all, the government had a history of censuring the Daily Prophet.

What if it all came down to a concrete place?

Where would the Death Eaters meet?

A place, where a big group as well as loners could go to. A place that was neutral territory. A place where nobody looked at anyone else for long. A place that could be visited frequently. A place with symbolic value.

The criteria eliminated almost all the places Draco had thought of. The most symbolic places were Hogwarts and Malfoy Manor. The owners of the campsite where the quidditch championship had been – the first event where Death Eaters had joined to hunt in years – would notice the Death Eaters.

Was this a dead end? Again?

He couldn't stop thinking.

But it didn't work.

There were walls everywhere.

The Potter family's old house was symbolic, but in the wrong way.

He thought about all the places that were related to the Dark Lord's horcruxes. Most of them were unreachable, as they were in Hogwarts, Gringotts, Malfoy Manor and the Weasleys' house. The last two had only been temporary hiding places for the Dark Lord's diary, which probably wasn't even symbolic enough – Draco had read the articles in the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler, according to which the cave, where the Dark Lord had hidden one of his other horcruxes had been destroyed by the aurors. The Gaunt Shack had been burnt down, as well.

Dead ends.

His mind was trapped.

Maybe they hadn't settled for a symbolic place at all... No, this didn't make sense. If the place weren't symbolic, the lost Death Eaters wouldn't think of it.

So one of his other criterions had to be wrong. But which one?

It just didn't work.

Of course Draco could just go and visit every place he could think of. Apparating from here to there in the hope of finding... something. A little hint, inspiration.

Unfortunately, this felt like a waste of time. None of those places met his criteria.

Oh... that was just the problem he had had before. _Useless._

Walls. Walls everywhere.

After a while, he decided to grant himself some sleep.

He was overlooking something, he knew it.

Four hours. He knew, he needed some sleep. The exhaustion hindered him from thinking logically.

_You know that four hours aren't enough. You are damaging yourself. You will get sick._

Four hours of sleep, because he had already wasted today.

He didn't want to be an egoist. He knew, he shouldn't need any sleep at all.

_What comes next? Drugging yourself with potions? Turning yourself into a machine?_

He wished, he was a machine. No emotions, no egoism, just doing what he was meant to do, effectively, precisely.

He lay down in his old bed in his old room in his old Slytherin pyjamas.

He fell asleep, as soon as his head touched the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope, you enjoyed this Chapter; feel free to comment ;-)


	15. Blurred Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back - it's been a while, sorry.  
> In return (somewhat), this Chapter is a little longer - I hope, you'll like it. 
> 
> The Chapter Title is a reference to "Honesty" by Phoebe Katis

_The first time he saw the mirror of Erised was at the beginning of sixth year._

_It was in the Room of Requirements, when he was alone, trying to be brave, sobbing quietly. He had been told to repair the vanishing cabinet, he had inspected it all day, searching for a way, finding none. He was attempting to calm down, when he saw it._

_His reflection was just as pale as himself – but it smiled, standing in front of his family. Everyone wore colourful clothes instead of the typical black. Somehow he could hear them._

_"We are so proud of you, son, no matter what", his father said. "We love you" "You are important" "You don't have to do anything that you don't want to do"_

_He had to force himself to look away. As soon as he did so, they fell silent._

_"If I do what they want, this could happen", he told himself._

_Every time he had to go to the Room of Requirements, he looked into the mirror. As he kept failing, he kept seeing his happy reflection, day after day. “Just to motivate myself”, he argued, “Just to remind myself of everything that’s possible”_

_Strangely, he didn't always see the same scenery._

_Sometimes he saw himself as a muggle – ignorant of everything that was happening._

_He saw himself with Harry Potter, flirting, kissing and declaring their love._

_Probably even more embarrassing was the amount of food and pillows he saw another day, when he was especially hungry and tired. He had skipped meals and sleep to have more time for working. It didn't work._

_The mirror showed him the supportive family, the forgiveness and the love he desired._

_He loved it and he hated it, it made him feel incredibly jealous, very self-conscious and a little understood. It made him feel human._

*

A memory. The nicer part of a memory.

Draco smiled, turned and continued to sleep.

*

_"Why are you hurting muggles?", he asked._

_His father laughed. "They are like animals, Draco"_

_"But why do we hurt them? We could be friends"_

_His father laughed again, shriller, higher. The laugh of the Dark Lord._

_"They aren't worth it"_

_His father's face turned into the Dark Lord's face._

_"Draco"_

_He stumbled backwards._

_"Draco. Why are you fighting against me? You could be so much more than this"_

_No! He had to fight, he couldn't lose himself._

_"So scared! We will cure that, as well, don't worry" Bellatrix._

_He felt her fingernails on his throat._

_"Let's try again", Voldemort said._

_*_

He couldn't move.

He was trapped, he couldn't escape. They had decided to try again.

Breathe!

Just a dream, just a dream, he was save, they were dead, they couldn't hurt him.

He was in his old room in Malfoy Manor.

He was save. They were dead.

He turned his head to look at the clock.

Merlin! He had slept too long. Way more than just four hours. It was in the afternoon.

He showered, put on fresh clothes and tried to feel as human as possible.

 _"You could be-"_ In all honesty, he didn't feel human at all. " _\- so much_ – "It wasn't real, it was a dream, he was awake _"– more than this"._

He had to forget about it.

He skipped breakfast. And lunch. It was too late for both anyway.

Now was the time to be productive.

The Death Eaters. Which place would they choose to hide a message? _You are failing. "We will cure that"_

No. No, he was awake. He had to stay strong. Because this was the present.

Why was he so weak? Why did his mind go back? Why couldn't he move on?

Concentrate! How would they contact each other?

He had to think, he had to focus. _"Let's try again"_

He had already wasted too much time.

Which place did every Death Eater know? There had to be a place, all of the Death Eaters associated with power and renewal. _You are asking the wrong question._

No, that was the right question. _You are wrong, Malfoy. One simple detail._

No, it was the right question. _So simple. But you keep pretending. "What would they think, what would they do?"_ Because these were the right questions.

Why was he even listening? He had to focus.

 _"Where would I go", that's the question you have to answer._ No! He wasn't a Death Eater. _And yet there is the Dark Mark on your arm. You still dream of your Master. You even call him The Dark Lord. It’s time to be honest to yourself, Malfoy, now!_ He didn't want to be a Death Eater. He hadn't chosen to have this dream. But maybe it wasn't his choice. Maybe it was just who he had to be.

Fine. Where would he go?

He forced himself to imagine a universe in which he genuinely wanted to join his father.

Somehow it worked. It really was that simple.

Little Hangleton graveyard. _Good boy, Malfoy, very clever!_

The place, where The Dark Lord had regained a body. Everyone could visit a graveyard. Especially people who liked to be dressed in black anyway. Nobody stared at someone, who seemed to be mourning. They could go there every day, if they wanted to _... because, strangely enough, some people remember how much they owe their ancestors..._

The aurors had debated to destroy the graveyard, but as far as Draco knew, they had decided to spare it. Ethical concerns, as far as he knew. Even though it was one of the most symbolic places of all. _Beautiful, isn't it? And all you had to do to understand, was accept your role. You will always be a Death Eater._

Breathe.

He stared at his face in the bathroom mirror.

Who was he? _A hesitant coward, who is scared of himself_

He shouldn't be scared. He wanted to find the Death Eaters after all, he should be glad, that he had had an idea. He should have disapparated immediately. Or at least he should have started to make a plan.

Maybe it wasn't even the place he was looking for. Maybe he was wrong. _You know, you aren’t. It is too perfect. What are you waiting for, Malfoy?_

He washed his face with cold water. He dried his hands. _Why are you hesitating?_

He grabbed his bag. _Just do it! Go, find your people!_

They were not his people. He was not... evil.

_Whatever! For someone who is so sure of himself, you're repeating this a little too often. What if you are wrong? You have been wrong before_

Draco quickly apparated to the graveyard.

When the Dark Lord had returned, Draco hadn't been a Death Eater – not yet. Back then he had admired them more than anything else. He hadn't known of the Dark Lord's plan, because the Death Eaters hadn't been organized. Even his father had been surprised.

Lucius had told him a few things about the graveyard. Later Draco – as everybody else – had read about it in the newspaper. But being there was something else entirely.

It was older than he had imagined it to be. Many of the tombstones were overgrown with moss. The roots of trees had taken over the paths between the graves. Parts of the graveyard almost looked like a forest. Were the muggles still using this place to bury their deceased? That seemed to be highly unlikely. In fact, all graves seemed to be over twenty years old. But if the muggles had stopped using the graveyard, why had the aurors decided to preserve it? They weren't sentimental. They were practical thinkers, not idealists.

What if it was a trap? _What if you are paranoid?_

The aurors were skilled, experienced and highly motivated... _but they aren't Death Eaters._

 _If they had found a way to the Death Eaters, they would have used it, instead of creating a forest around it._ Except the trap was meant for wizards and witches, who wanted to join them. _A forest. As a trap?! Yes, very elegant indeed. Seriously, how stupid are you, Malfoy? They are aurors, not botany enthusiasts._

Right, yes, of course.

He was paranoid, stupid.

He had to focus on the relevant bits, on the tombstones. Find the grave of Thomas Riddle.

Walking between trees, tombstones and roots got increasingly difficult, the farther he made it in.

He stumbled once again, took a fall.

Suddenly he was lying on the ground. His hands and knees were bleeding, but he could move.

He stumbled back on his feet, resuming his search.

Reading, reading.

Somewhere, somewhere, ...

So what, if hunting them wasn't as easy as he had anticipated? It was good. He needed it to be difficult. He needed the tension, the exhaustion, the mania. It made him feel alive, helped him at forgetting about everything else.

He was playing a game of hide and seek with the remaining Death Eaters. He would find them all, hunt them down, catch them.

Nothing else mattered.

He had left everything behind.

He kept walking, kept reading. Smith, Gulray, Stevens, Baker, ...

... Ramsey, Miller, Epanel, ...

Stoddy, Riddle.

He stopped.

Riddle, Riddle, Riddle. Tom, Marry, Thomas. Three old, badly weathered tombstones next to each other, barely readable.

He had reached his temporary goal. Now he had to start looking for clues. A message from the Death Eaters, a way to communicate with them, just something, anything...

Somehow, inspecting the tombstones angered him. He remembered reading about Harry's _lies_ in the newspapers – about how Cedric had been killed in front of her and about how she had been injured, how she had survived. His father hadn't told him a lot, but it had been more than enough. He couldn't help thinking: _This is where Cedric died_ and _this is where the Dark Lord got his body._ In a very egoistic moment he was relieved, that it had been Cedric instead of Harry. Honestly, he had never truly liked him and always _liked_ her – even when he hated her passionately.

He remembered seeing her in the arena, clutching Cedric's body. Fourteen-year-old winner of the tournament, impossibly brave and impossibly lucky, a fighter through and through. A survivor.

The press had teared her story apart, piece by piece, till nothing was left than a sad boy who had lost his mind over witnessing a deadly accident. She had been traumatized. That year and the year after and the year after – this year. And every time when Draco thought, it must have been too much, now she'd be broken beyond repair, she had carried on.

Sometimes he had wondered, why he had fallen in love – how could he not question his feelings, when everyone told him he was wrong? He had tried to make lists of reasons.

Her smile, her modesty, her attentiveness, her sense for adventures, … – but it was impossible. There was too much he wanted to add and too many questions, he couldn't answer. The lists left him devastated, knowing she was too perfect, knowing he probably didn't know her at all, wondering if he was just idealizing her and feeling guilty for being in love with Harry Potter, a Gryffindor and the enemy.

Sometimes he tried to list reasons not to fall in love with her.

She could be arrogant, impulsive and judgemental, she hated Slytherins, she hated him. Or did she? In all honesty, he didn't mind any of her weaknesses. She never stayed arrogant for too long, her impulsiveness was downright adorable and her tendency to judge others... He had been brought up to be worse. Her hatred towards Slytherin and especially towards him really were problematic. But he couldn't blame her for it.

In the end this type of lists always failed. It didn't prevent him from falling in love – it just showed him time after time how deeply in love he already was.

_Stop it! You're getting sentimental and it's disgusting._

He tapped at the tombstone with his scratched fingers. His touches left faint bloody fingerprints, but nothing else happened. So paying with blood didn't work in this case.

He ducked down to look at the inscription from a different angle. Thomas Riddle. "Revelio" Nothing changed. No concealed object. "Aparecium" And no hidden message.

Okay, great.

Apparently this was just an ordinary tombstone covered in plants in a plant covered graveyard.

Too many plants.

Far too many.

What if they were here on purpose?

To conceal something? But he had used revelio and it hadn't changed anything...

Maybe it didn't conceal anything and still concealed something at the same time... _Congratulations on officially losing your mind, Malfoy._

It was easiest to hide a book on a bookshelf, a potion between potions and a magic plant between plants. _Crazy, manic, lunatic, ..._

He started to look for an unusual plant, maybe a – got it.

A rose, growing in front of the tombstone. It seemed to be made out of silver and rayed impulses of energy. If one focussed on the moss around it, it was pretty easy to detect. In a way, the rose reminded him of visiting Jem and Phil. A rose out of porcelain – a rose out of metal. _And still you are denying who you really belong to..._

He carefully touched a petal of the flower with his wand. Maybe it just needed a proof, that he wasn’t a muggle. Could it be that easy? Suddenly the rose began to grow. Tendrils looped around his wand, his fingers, his hand, his arm, his chest, as if it wanted to embrace him. _Or maybe it just wants to strangle you._ Not again! He struggled to escape, but the plant was too quick. Somehow he doubted, that basic politeness would help this time. A new tendril sprouted, looped around his left arm, moved into his sleeve and touched the Dark Mark.

Suddenly the rest of the plant started to crumble and turn into a pile of ashes. Everything that was left, was the tendril around his arm.

He felt it harden and gain mass, turn into a thick bracelet.

A strange feeling arose in his stomach, like a hook behind his navel.

Oh. Oh no. A portkey.

Somehow the plant had transformed into a portkey he couldn't let go.

*

A couple of tents on a field. Magical tents, judging by the amount of chimneys.

A man in black robes was walking towards him.

The tendril – bracelet – portkey crumbled around Draco's arm.

He felt his knees buckle.

Everything was turning. Another wave of nausea.

He really hated portkeys.

"Draco", the man said, grabbing his shoulder.

The world stilled.

Maybe Draco was too used to search for hidden messages, but he really couldn't help doing it now.

"Draco", his father repeated. Only this one word, his name. Five letters. Two vowels.

Was there any remorse in his father's voice, any sympathy?

"Welcome back my son" Was Lucius glad to see him? Had he expected him? What did he mean by _welcome back_? Had he missed him? _Impossible. Missed? You? Who could ever miss you?_

"Glad to be back, father", he said like the man he had been forced to be. As if he hadn’t just fought back the urge to throw up. _Your father's little puppet. Little Malfoy, still the perfect heir to the name of cowards and traitors._

To his great surprise, he was pulled into a hug.

Draco knew, his father was a bad person. He knew it and probably he shouldn't melt into his father's arms like that. Probably he should feel nothing but remorse.

But he couldn't help it. It was so comforting.

For a moment, he felt like a little boy again, arrogant and spoiled, his parent's little prince. His father held him tightly, he was safe. He wanted to freeze time.

_What about Harry?_

The moment ended abruptly.

Draco Lucius Malfoy had been afraid of being killed by aurors and Death Eaters, plants and traps. He had been scared, he would never find the Death Eaters or he would find them when it was too late. The one thing he hadn't foreseen was this: A part of him didn't want to trait his father. Maybe his father had changed. Maybe his father had learned to love him.

He knew, why he had searched the Death Eaters.

But what if he could stay?

What if this was his _happy end_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: ... no, it isn't. Neither happy, nor the end. 
> 
> Anyway... Thank you for reading, I hope, you enjoyed this Chapter. Feel free to comment ;-)


	16. Mere echoes of the spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear, beloved, patient readers - welcome back!  
> The Chapter Title is a reference to "Into the Unknown" by Jack Jones.  
> Thank you for reading, I hope you'll enjoy :-)

Harry was strong. Harry was brave. Harry had escaped her family.

But Draco wasn't Harry Potter. Being in love with someone unfortunately didn't mean instantly turning into a better person. _You aren't in love, you are pathetic._ As his father stopped hugging him, Draco just waited. Of course he was here for a reason, but this was not the right moment. _Weak._

He felt Lucius grab his wrists firmly. He didn't close his eyes. He also didn't look.

He didn't need to, to know, that his father was judging his appearance.

"You haven't taken care of yourself", his father remarked disapprovingly. _Weak. A real Malfoy_ _wouldn't fail at self-care._ At least he wasn't like his father in this regard...

"I had to worry about a lot of things", he mumbled, just to respond anything.

"Everyone of us has reason to worry, Draco", Lucius said sharply, "Failures are unacceptable. Especially yours. You will eat and drink enough, you will tend to your wounds, you will sleep and you will be loyal" None of those were questions. _And all of them make sense._ In all honesty, he had expected worse.

He waited, again. Let father think, he was in control. _He is in control. All you are doing is being submissive and wait._ Lucius would be more willing to answer later, the more obedient Draco was now. Just a strategy. Just a plan. He wasn't helpless. _You are lying at yourself, you know?_

"The others are organizing dinner. You will meet them later; I will show you around, as soon as you look presentable"

Draco nodded silently and followed his father into one of the tents. So there were others. How many? Were they really _organizing dinner_ or had they more sinister plans?

The tent's interior reminded him very much of Malfoy Manor. Traditional, dark and expensive. With a wave of his wand, Lucius created a new bed next to the other two.

"Take a shower and go to sleep"

This actually sounded very nice, but... No. He needed more information.

"I still haven't greeted mother", Draco stated. Neutral voice, not a question. _Don't show emotions. Emotions are a weakness._

"Your mother has been captured by the aurors yesterday" No. No. Not his mother. She was too smart for that. Impossible. "How? When?" _Ah, the inevitable slip-up. Two questions at once. So concerned for your mother, just like the little child you are._ Of course his questions were ignored.

"Go to bed, Draco"

*

_One day, he entered the room of requirements too hastily. He didn't notice it, until he heard the voice behind him. "Hello, Draco"_

_He turned so quickly, he almost knocked down a particularly ugly vase that was standing on a particularly ugly table._

_"I did expect to meet you here" Albus Dumbledore. Smiling wisely, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. "Really?", Draco replied, "I... I don't come here that often. There's nothing of interest in this room, it is just..." He was angry at himself for lying that badly. What would the Dark Lord do to him, to his family, when he'd find out?_ Lie better! _"calmingly chaotic?", Dumbledore added with a small laugh, "But Draco, we both know, that you have a very special task to fulfil"_

_"I can’t imagine, what you mean, sir" His voice was a bit too high, almost shrill. He cleared his throat and hid his shaking hands behind his back._

_Dumbledore laughed again. "Of course you know, my dear boy. But let's not dwell on the future. I revealed myself to you, to ask for the presence, your presence"_

_"I don't understand"_

_"Ah, yes, this time you really don't, do you? Let me rephrase that: I believe you discovered the benefits of the mirror Erised. Tell me, ... are you content with what you see?"_

_Draco didn't know, what to say._

_He looked over his shoulder, at the mirror. Harry and he were waving at him, laughing and – for some reason – eating ice crème._

_"It is not real", he finally said._

_"You seem to think so, at least for today", Dumbledore replied, "But I am sure, you'll understand the mirror's truth later" With that, the headmaster waved and disappeared, leaving the very startled Draco in front of the mirror._

_"He is just messing with me", he told himself. From this day on, he was much more careful with entering the room. He thought about writing to his father, but decided against it. Each letter would be read by the Dark Lord. Even the slightest hint that Dumbledore knew about their plan could be deadly._

_Maybe, just maybe, Dumbledore had no idea what he was doing and this was his way of gaining information. He hoped so with all his heart, the Death Eater's plans were too important to be hindered._

_The mirror kept showing Harry and him hand in hand._

*

His hair was still damp, when he woke up, but at least he was feeling a little better.

His father was nowhere to be seen. Perfect. If he was lucky, he'd have enough time to think about all new information and search the tent for clues.

He quickly got dressed.

The most likely place to find something important: His father's desk. While he carefully looked through maps, lists and notes, he went mentally through everything his father had said.

They were worried, Narcissa had been captured, Draco was supposed to be perfect. What else was there? The other Death Eaters had left the camp to organize dinner. This likely meant, that Lucius was their leader – the one, who didn't have to bother walking around and hunting. But they were also under a lot of pressure. If his mother had indeed been captured by the aurors, they had to be relatively close nearby. Furthermore, if his father was so insistent on him being presentable, Draco was _needed._ Maybe Lucius' power wasn't that secure. Two looming threats: The aurors and displeased Death Eaters.

How could Draco use that?

The papers on the desk were useless. He quickly went on to searching the rest of the room.

Back to planning... The aurors being nearby definitely could be helpful, as soon as he had gotten all the information he needed. For now, they were a threat to him as well. He would have to keep them in mind and work quickly – but they wouldn't be of any direct help.

The other Death Eaters were somewhat of an unknown variable. If his father wasn't willing to tell him anything helpful, he could try to find out more by listening to them, but that was a great risk.

The most elegant way, would be to talk to his father. He knew him best. As long as he was patient enough and no one interfered, Lucius was the easiest target, despite all.

Draco also didn't have much of a choice in that regard - Especially since there was nothing in regards to Harry in the entire room.

Somewhat disappointing.

His father came to fetch him, just when he had started wondering, if searching other tents were worth the risk. _Such an inefficient way of thinking! Just talk to them! - Or are you too bratty and scared?_

The Death Eaters were having dinner together, in a tent in the middle of the campsite.

The amount – and variety - of food suggested, that they either were passionate cooks or that they enjoyed robbing muggle restaurants. Probably the latter...

"Everyone", Lucius said loudly, as soon as they entered the room, "Welcome my son Draco. You'll probably know him from last year, when he single handily repaired the Hogwarts vanishing cabinet, to let us in" Draco tried to look as self-assured as possible. Nobody bothered to introduce themselves, but he didn't hold it against them. He wouldn't trust himself if he were in their situation, as well. "You mean, we know him as the boy, who failed at killing Dumbledore", a bold man replied. Draco felt Lucius tense up, but that wasn't necessary. He could handle it.

"Dumbledore wanted to die", he said, doing his best impression of a bored hero, "He planned on sacrificing his life to stop the Dark Lord. By not killing Dumbledore I almost prevented his plans" He stared blankly into their excitedly reddened faces. "Do you remember, who ended up killing Dumbledore? It was that traitor, Snape"

He wasn't sure, if they were convinced at all. Even though it – technically speaking – had not been a real lie.

If Dumbledore really had wanted to die, Draco wouldn't have known. He hadn't tried to be clever back then on the tower. He had just wanted to be a good person. And he had wanted to survive... Kind of contradictory in that situation. _Stop being nostalgic. You don't want to be the craziest of the group, do you?_ He forced himself to snap back into reality.

"... man. I am aware, how difficult this situation is. I promise you, I won't even trust my son, until he can prove himself worthy. I demand the same thing from you. We need to be loyal and we need to be cautious", he heard Lucius finish a longer statement. The others murmured in agreement.

He'd carefully ask his father about it, when dinner was over. Just another question on the pile.

"Any signs of the aurors?", Lucius asked, as if he hadn't just held a passionate speech.

"They are as clueless as always", replied the man, who had spoken up before, "But still a bother. One word, and we'll kill them" About half of the others nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, Lucius, come on. Hiding and hunting muggles has stopped being fun, weeks ago", a shorter man with long scars all over his face added. This one had surely been involved in a confrontation with a werewolf. It was honestly amazing, how reckless this individual still was. _Unlike a certain young Malfoy, who is currently plotting against everyone he is dining with? Come on! Amazingly reckless? More like amazingly arrogant. - And bound to fail..._

"I promise I won't even enjoy them losing their minds too much. - Though that will be difficult"

"How about a competition: Who can kill the most"

"Don't you want to take revenge for your sister-in-law, Lucius?"

Draco could almost feel, how excited they were. Like a group of dragons, ready to hunt. - Though no animal killed another without a reason. These people were ready to kill because they were bored. Disgusting. - And almost uncontrolled by his father. Maybe he'd be able to use that later...

"Please, go ahead, try to fight a group of elite magicians, who are used to hunting us down", Lucius snarled, "Maybe you won't feel that bored, when you are sent to Azkaban"

Predictable answer, even though an effective one.

"Do you really think, we are that weak?"

Lucius just smiled and started eating. Draco followed his example, though he didn’t feel hungry.

The mood didn't brighten up, till dinner was over.

Draco watched the group split. Some Death Eaters started a game of cards, others went right back into their tents. To his surprise, there were also two couples who went for a walk, holding hands, talking, laughing and blushing. He wondered, if his parents had ever looked like this, young, happy, in love. Thinking of how coldly they used to interact and how calmly his father had talked about her being captured, it was hard to believe. Did it change anything about him, if his parents had never loved each other? He had spent most of his life in their presence, he shared their DNA and their name… Even though he hated to admit it. At least watching those couples, didn’t make him think of his parents exclusively. Two people, walking hand in hand… Maybe one day, Harry and him... But they had other things to worry and think about and she didn't even like him in that way. If she even liked him at all...

"I believe, there is a lot we have to talk about, Draco" Ah, well, back to reality, then. Talking to his father, subtly asking a few of his questions. _Too emotional._

"You didn't mind me saying I wouldn't trust you for now", Lucius said, while walking back to his – their - tent. "Not at all" So this was, what he had talked about for so long. Trust... Draco hadn't anticipated any trust, it really wasn't surprising at all. "You understand, why I said so in front of everyone else, don't you?" "Of course, father" They had finally reached the tent, entered it and sat down at the table.

"A few questions", Lucius started. Straight to the point. No big surprise. Of course all of those questions would be asked by Draco's father. Draco himself would have to be much subtler. Even if he wouldn't directly ask about Harry. Come to think of it, he probably wouldn't have a chance of asking at all.

He watched his father pour a few drops of a clear potion into a glass of water. "Drink. It's Veritaserum" Occlumency would work against that. Occlumency and not so straight answers. Well... as a bisexual, not answering straight hopefully wouldn't be that hard... _Really? "Not so straight" – jokes, to calm down your nerves? Better be careful with the serum, or your father will disown you, as he should!_

He made sure, to drink it all without hesitating any further.

Lucius smiled.

"First question. What did you do after the big battle?"

Difficult question. The best way to lie under the influence of Veritaserum was talking in half-truths. He thought back to everything. "My parents and I walked away from the battle. I didn't stay with them for long. We had a fight. We fought a lot, actually" Difficult topic. He'd have to circumnavigate that carefully. The Veritaserum loosened his tongue, but for now he was stronger. "After an especially hard fight I left. I rented a flat and tried to go on" He forced himself to go quiet. "Why did you decide to re-join us?" Careful. "I felt bad", he replied slowly, "and lonely" – so far, he was stating the truth – "And I thought that I might have made a mistake" _... when I behaved the way I did towards Harry_. Breathe. Slowly. You can do it.

"So you regret, what you said during our fight? You changed your mind?" He remembered the fight very well. He also remembered everything his father had said. "I am sorry" _... for not saying more back then. Your views are disgusting and wrong._ "I was confused, I wish, I had acted differently" _Back then I still imagined you to be a good person with a few problematic views. I wish, I hadn’t been so naive._ Hopefully, this was enough. By now, pushing back the full truths made him feel physically sick.

"How did you find us?" Finally, a question, that was easy to answer. "I thought about symbolic places. The cemetery was the most logical answer. By the way, your spell on the rose also influences all of the other plants there" That last sentence had been supposed to stay in his head. _You're getting bratty._ All in all, it could have been a worse sentence to say out loud.

His father just nodded, thoughtfully.

Wait, just wait. Don't be too optimistic.

"Very well. I knew, you would finally come to your senses, Draco. You can stay" Somehow, Draco didn't feel that relieved. _Of course you aren’t! You are lying about everything that you wrongfully believe in. Lying to your own father, disregarding everything you have been taught about honour and honesty!_ "One last thing, my son. You have seen, how difficult our current situation is. Do you promise, to support my side against the others?" Veritaserum didn't last forever, but it was still affecting him at the moment, he still felt a strong urge to tell the truth. Luckily, he could do so. Draco smiled at his father, the Death Eater, the coward, and his enemy. "I will support you. With all my heart" ... _at least for now._


	17. A difficult move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello - and welcome back.  
> I hope you'll enjoy this rather dark Chapter  
> (The Title isn't a reference to anything but the Chapter itself)

One by one by one, day after day passed by. - Or maybe he should stop thinking of days and start counting weeks. Or months. Months? Honestly, he wasn't sure anymore.

He had lost count a few... days? Weeks? Months?... a while ago.

They still hadn't moved to another place; he still wasn't allowed to leave the camp.

Every day he woke up in the tent, got dressed and joined his father, knowing he was wasting time. An assistant, an unofficial bodyguard, a symbol _, a coward_.

And every day he went to bed when he was told to, knowing he still hadn't achieved anything at all. Well- beyond finding and joining the Death Eaters. _Traitor._

It wasn't exclusively his fault – _your fault, only your fault._ He had talked to his father and the others. Well not specifically about Harry, but rather about secret missions and how they were spending their time in general. It was kind of difficult to gain their trust. Anyway...

He tried to imagine leaving them, going back to Harry without any information at all.

But what would he tell her? How could she trust him, when he'd say, he had tried? He was a Malfoy, of course he'd lie and deceive his way right into hell... She just wouldn't believe him. It was impossible.

It had been a mistake to come here in the first place. No return, he'd have to own up to it. And the only way to do that was... showing he could be helpful. _You keep telling that to yourself._

Not the first time he failed at being helpful... _Stop it._

He remembered... _Stop it._

_Stop it. You know, what you have to do. Do it now. Stop stalling._

Sometimes the memories felt more important than reality. Just another proof of how much he was wasting his time, wasn't it? _Just stop-_

_Dumbledore's visit of the room of requirements didn't change anything about the scenes, the mirror showed Draco. He might have been content with the way they were, forever. Harry and him, celebrating Christmas, birthdays and Halloween. Talking and laughing and-_

_But things always changed. That was, what life was all about, wasn't it?_

_People changed, dreams changed and sometimes..._

_Everyone kept saying, there could only be one worst day of one's life. One dark moment, the ultimate doom and gloom. And after that, everything would get better again. Draco wasn't sure if that was true. In his experience, there would always come a day that was even worse. But for now? Well..._

_He had been crying in the bathroom, desperate and scared. Harry entered the room and attacked him. He almost died. He survived. The usual Hogwarts stuff. Cursed bathrooms, as Luna might have said. - If they still had been friends then._

_He didn't cry that evening. Or the next evening. Or the evening after the next day. Days passed in a way he had never experienced before. He didn't feel like getting up or eating or drinking or doing anything at all. Draco wasn't waiting – but he wasn't acting either. He got angry letters by his father and worried – or rather manipulative - ones by his mother. The envelopes kept piling up next to his bed. No Howlers – but as the topic they kept writing about, was him failing at his secret mission, they couldn't really risk sending those._

_A few days, maybe weeks passed. He wasn't sure, why he snapped out of that mood..._

_But one day he went back to the room, to the vanishing cabinet, to... the mirror..._

"Draco, come join us" His father. Judging by the volume, he was somewhere nearby, but outside. Judging by his tone he wasn't in the best mood. _Obey. They'll judge you. And you'll fail._

Draco tumbled to his feet, out of bed. He left the tent, feeling just as empty as always. A little like a troll. Just not as stupid or as lively... The smart corpse of a troll? That was it, his old new constant mood. At least that would make an impressive patronus. Absentmindedly he tried to smooth out his wrinkled shirt. Was he dressed acceptably? Probably. Well, depending on his father's plans... Maybe. Hopefully. No time to get changed anyway.

Draco heard them before he saw them. For some reason or another, drunk Death Eaters in a tent sounded just like drunk teenagers in the Slytherin common room. Oh the memories... At least the Death Eaters weren't frantically making out.

Instead, they were debating loudly. Apart from Lucius, everyone was talking, gesticulating widely.

"It is time to get back to business", said a voice behind Draco. Ah – speaking of Lucius... He passed Draco in order to stand directly in front of his group. "Tomorrow, we'll move on to the next place. Go, organize your belongings, if you need to" If they'd be moving, Draco would lose the safety of nearby aurors. - Which might be the reason they were moving... It would also hinder talking. The Death Eaters would be too busy with complaining. And Draco would be too busy with being an obedient son. Really bad news. If there was any possibility, to get them to talk tonight, he would take it.

_You mean, just as always._ Well... Basically yes. Just with a little more pressure... 

At least he didn't seem to be the only one reluctant of partaking in Lucius' plan. Literally everyone turned to flash them annoyed looks. Draco could almost feel the growing tension. "Stop being a drama queen, L" "Who made you our leader?" "We can't hide forever!" "No more cat and mouse games with them. We'll fight them openly and honestly!"

Oh no.

If they lost, he would lose his chance to question the Death Eaters.

If they won, he would lose the possible support of the aurors. Support, he'd need, as soon as he had questioned the Death Eaters.

That aside... Would he have to fight with them? His father might insist that he did. _A question of honour._

What if he got killed?

Or sent to Azkaban? Tortured by the Dementors. And by his fellow inmates... After all, he wouldn't be able to pretend being a Death Eater forever.

Draco's thoughts were spiralling.

This was even worse than moving.

_Pull yourself together, Malfoy!_

"You are getting arrogant", Draco snarled.

"Oh it's the Malfoy son! Wouldn't have taken you for the brave kind" Well, as he indeed wasn't brave, that was fair.

"Yeah, why don't you go back and hide in your tent" Also fair. Though he wasn't exactly hiding. Rather napping and feeling guilty.

"You wouldn't fight anyway" He felt their aggression well up. Lucius was quiet. A leader's luxury, huh? Unfortunately, Draco knew, being his father's son wouldn't be enough for them. Time to defend himself.

"So what do you suggest? You want to fight? Against a group of aurors? Elite magicians waiting for revenge?" He paused for a split second to give them time to think. Suddenly he remembered, he was using almost the same words, his father had chosen, the day Draco had arrived at the camp. It had worked then, but not for long. _Because Lucius is a fool, who doesn't read the room. Keep talking!_ "Well then go ahead. You'll be dead before dawn. And there won't be anyone to mourn your losses, because you'll be forgotten" Draco watched their reactions closely. He had to keep a good balance of being discouraging and believable, of being approachable and keeping control. Them being drunk could be an advantage – but if they had already passed the point of being able to listen, he had no chance.

"We are stronger than them", someone shouted from the back. Careful now. He couldn't encourage them, but insulting them wouldn't help at all. "We are strong", Draco said confidently, "But only being strong isn't enough. We have to pick our battles carefully" "We can't just wait forever" _Think fast!_ He needed an example. Not Voldemort, that might hit too close to home...

"Albus Dumbledore", he tried to keep his voice neutral, "was known as the greatest wizard of our time" He waited for them to protest or to mention the Dark Lord, but they kept quiet. "Still at the end of the day he died" Back on his first day here, he had told them, Dumbledore had wanted to die. Would they be able to recall that?

"Dumbledore was a fool" "We are better than him" "We are a group, not a single old man" Well, that was a relieve. Only insulted, not suspicious. _Be more careful!_ He should stop talking about Dumbledore, before they remembered.

"Of course we are different than him", he interrupted them, "But I'm surprised, you didn't mention the most important difference: He was known. He still is. His death was symbolic. At the moment our names don't mean anything. As I already said: Die now and you'll be forgotten. It's your choice: go and fight or join me and create a legacy nobody will forget" It felt like a risky strategy, but right now he couldn't think of many other options. If he was very lucky, they'd even let him in on their plans in regards to Harry... What could be more impressive than a ploy against The Chosen One? The ultimate way to become a legend.

Draco felt sick.

"We wouldn't die" Was he losing them? Or was that the last ounce of resistance in them? Just this once, Draco decided to take a leap of faith. "Well, are you ready to take that risk for a few minutes of fun?"

Silence.

Deafening silence – or defeated silence?

One after the other, the Death Eaters left the tent.

Draco, still standing next to the entrance, next to his father, studied their faces.

"Well done", Lucius said, when everyone else was gone, "I almost forgot how deceptive you are" Was that meant to be a compliment? Draco felt Lucius hand pat his shoulder.

He didn't turn.

"It is time to talk", Lucius continued.

What could that be about?! Strangely, he felt more nervous now, than he had felt a few moments ago, talking to an aggressive, drunk crowd. Still, he followed his father to their tent – What else was there to be done?

*

"Take a seat" Draco ignored the command.

Lucius started talking anyway. "It is obvious you don't belong to us" Draco gulped. It really was. He never joined them, stayed inside and... "You still don't share our believes" True. _Deny it!_ There was nothing to deny.

"Why would you think something like that?", Draco replied, feigning surprise and hurt.

"Stop faking. I repeat: It is obvious" _Breathe_.

"I might have a few problems at fitting in", Draco argued, "I can't relate to their impatience"

If only Lucius knew... Their impatience might have been the trait; Draco could relate to the most.

"A straight answer, son"

Draco forced himself to breathe. An odd part of him wanted to make a joke about him not being straight. _"You want my bi-assed reply, father?"_ But this was not the moment. That moment would probably never come. Much too offensive. _Be polite._

"My apologies. It is true. I don't share all of your believes. How could you tell?" _Distracting him? By making him think about your differences? You know, this won't help._

"Unlike my people, I'm not drunk and you aren't as convincing as you believe yourself to be" Draco didn't question that sentiment. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't. For the moment he just had to turn the situation into something less threatening. _Think, think, think_

"So why did you really come?", Lucius asked dryly. Of course he knew. He always knew. _Think, Draco!_ What if he was honest? Could that work? How much would he risk?

"Because of your ploy against Harry" Draco tried to sound unphased, bored, like he didn't actually care.

In reality he was scared. An outsider who knew about the Death Eaters' plans... Would his father be upset?

Would Draco be questioned? Would they threaten him? Or actually torture him? Well, as soon as they had sobered up... Why wouldn't they? They were bored after all... _You really think a lot about people threatening people, hurting people. Your brain is so messed up, it's almost funny._

Lucius laughed. Not his evil laugh, not his threatening laugh. It was genuine laughter, amused and sincere.

"Honestly, Draco, are you still obsessed with the Potter boy?"

Draco flinched. _You are messed up, Draco Malfoy, your brain is damaged._ He pushed every thought about Harry away. He would avoid misgendering her, but he couldn't prevent his father from doing it, without accidentally outing her. She wouldn't want him to correct his father. He had to pretend.

"There is no ploy against him and there won't be one in the foreseeable future"

"But-" Draco's thoughts were racing. His father wasn't lying. Why should he, there was no reason to tell lies, when the truth might hurt Draco more. But if Lucius wasn't lying... Didn't his father know about the plan? He seemed to be the leader of all free Death Eaters. They seemed to be too unorganized for a secret second leader. Thinking of it, they probably also wouldn't be that bored if they were taking part in a ploy... Could there be another group of Death Eaters?

"I'm serious, son. The only three people on our side who have ever been interested in that boy were Snape, the Dark Lord and you. We don't care, what happens to Potter"

This didn't make any sense at all.

"But _he_ killed the Dark Lord! What about revenge, what about-" He knew, he was grasping for straws. Maybe this was just one last test of his loyalty, his father testing him for whatever reason, maybe, hopefully, please.

"Listen, Draco, we have money, magic, muggles and our freedom. This might not be the life, we always wanted, but everything is better than Azkaban. Why should we risk everything to punish a boy who was lucky enough to win a fair duel against our former master?"

Why indeed...

"You may join us, Draco, but forget about Harry Potter. Let him for once be as arrogant and famous as he wants to be. He's not worth the trouble"

Draco blinked.

He had been wrong. Wrong, so wrong, so unbearably, hopelessly wrong.

It wasn't the Death Eaters.

They were... innocent.

Well except for their crimes against wizards, witches and muggles...

He stunned his father, went back into the camp and stunned everyone else, methodically entering tent after tent. He was fast, fearless and unexpected. They were drunk, tired and unprepared. It was almost too easy.

He managed to hex all of them, constrained them and sent a note to the aurors, using an owl he found in one of the tents.

*

They arrived within a few seconds, wands raised, ready to fight.

They might have expected a trap.

There was nothing they had to be afraid of, Draco realized with a smile, he was offering them a way to catch a group of Death Eaters.

Still, they were everywhere, quick, efficient, soon preparing to transport the Death Eaters to Azkaban.

Draco was standing in the midst of them – and was ignored. To be fair, he wasn't even trying to be noticed. After a while they were nothing but blurry shadows. He looked down at the tips of his shoes, muddy and scratched after a pointless adventure.

Wasn't it interesting, how they immediately realized, he wasn't a part of the Death Eaters?

Maybe he really wasn't like them at all. That was a good thing, right?

_It just makes you lonely. You don't belong to anyone._

"Hey"

Instinctively he raised his head.

One of the aurors flashed him a smile. "You are the one who caught them, aren't you?“

Didn't they know, how to read body language? Don't talk to me. He went back to his former posture. Maybe if he just stayed silent, they'd go away.

He already heard them move.

Draco kept looking at his feet. He was so tired, so, so tired.

It was over. He had won. And lost. Both of it. Neither. Maybe it wasn't really over, but he couldn't think of a next move. So probably it was over, at least for him.

A hand brushed over his arm. So they were still there? And trying to calm him down? Pathetic. He was calm, completely calm.

"I guess I ought to tell you, this was an incredibly dangerous and reckless thing to do"

Why was he feeling so empty?

"But honestly, this was very impressive. You should think about a career as an auror"

Draco briefly looked up.

The magician who had spoken seemed to be in their thirties. Braided dark hair, black lipstick and black eyeshadow. Even though their clothes were out of robust black and red leather, he could see the traces of dark magic on their outfit. The right sleeve was partly burned, there were a few holes that suggested contact with some kind of acid and a patch of their shirt was discoloured. In short: they looked wild.

He wondered, how they'd react if they realized who they were talking to. Probably wouldn't take that long, considering how much he looked like Lucius.

Of course he wasn't the first son to turn against his father, but he was _Draco Lucius Malfoy_.

"I'd have to go back to Hogwarts and master the exams", he said. Which was true, but not really the point.

Who would ever be ready to ignore his past?

Harry. Unbelievably, she had only seen him as the person he wanted to be.

He had destroyed their relationship. Too late to apologize, too late to save what ever they had had.

Spontaneously he decided to go back to Malfoy Manor.

As soon as his family was sent to Azkaban, it would be his' anyway. Just the place he deserved. Beautiful, historic and a prison in its own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :-)
> 
> (I kind of miss Harry, don't you? Chapter 19. And Chapter 20. And Chapter 21... This story might get pretty long...)


	18. How to go on  / Holding on to the moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter starts, where the previous ended
> 
> To repeat a warning from Chapter 7...:  
> Emotional roller coaster - if a roller coaster can be an underground train

_When he re-entered the room of requirements, he looked into the mirror of Erised, expecting to see Harry. But the mirror was empty. Just as empty as portraits, when the person in there left their frame to visit their neighbours._

_Just as empty as he was feeling inside._

"I believe; you'd stand a chance"

Draco winced. _This is the present, remember? Stop living in the past._

A chance. They had said something about a chance, hadn't they? A nice way to put it. Optimistic without promising anything. Everyone who made promises was a liar. How could anyone know about the future? Even prophets tended to be vague at best – or plainly wrong the rest of the time. Divination was no science. There was no safety, no way to be sure. Well to be fair... looking back, the more gifted prophets actually had always been right – but only in hindsight.

Wait.

He was supposed to listen, wasn't he?

_Stop being disrespectful! Pay attention!_

What was he even doing?

The aurors were still searching the tents. The auror he had been talking to, was still speaking to him.

Somehow he had thought, they had given up on talking to him a while ago.

How much had he missed? Wait... had he missed any questions? Should he have replied something? What did they mean, when they were talking about chances and...

"... personally, I found, experience is..."

... whatever they were saying now?

"I'm not so sure about that", Draco said with a restrained smile. It was an answer that fitted almost everything. Especially if his expression could be read as playful. - Maybe Malfoy was just ironic, maybe he was joking, huh? _Be calm. If you can._

"Hey", the magician responded, "as long as you believe in yourself... I mean, what could go wrong anyway?"

He felt their hand on his shoulder. _Don't touch me. Don't come close to me._ He felt the warmth through his shirt. And the weight. It had been such a long time, since anyone had touched him in a reassuring way. _Please don't stop touching me._ Why didn't they mind being so close to him? They didn't even know him. On the other hand, that was probably in his favour. He'd choose a random stranger over himself any day. If he ever got to choose...

"Maybe", he found himself say, "I could try. Thank you" They smiled at him, baring two rows of white teeth. _Don't trust them. They are too close._ Would it be impolite to step away? After all, they were really only touching his shoulder... _and deep down you like it, don't you?_

"Mc Intrey, we're leaving", one of the other aurors called out. Suddenly they let go. Draco tumbled a few steps back. They had already joined their group, cornering the floating bodies of the Death Eaters. It was weird to see them like this, transported the same way, wounded were brought to the Hogwarts nursery – and corpses were removed from saloons. Strange times, indeed. Though of course _these_ Death Eaters weren't dead. Except maybe for their sense of empathy... _If your father knew, who you really are, you'd be dead to him._ He watched the group move, not perfectly in sync, but harmonic; not stiffly, not unprofessional. In another world, he'd be one of them. In reality, they were just gathering at the border of the campsite (in order to prevent getting in the way of any protection spells), leaving him behind. When they came to a halt, Mc Intrey turned around to face him.

"Good luck, Malfoy", they called out, waving with both hands.

They knew who he was.

Had they known all along?

Hell, he looked like his father, of course they had known.

He had been distracted. Stupid. And he was here, among Death Eaters, he was behaving strangely, he had called them. Of course they'd take him to Azkaban know, wouldn't they? No chance they'd believe him.

He stilled, held his breath, watched them react to Mc Intrey's words.

Some of the aurors turned, but none of them came closer. Instead, they started talking to each other in hushed voices and eventually disapparated.

Impossible.

But they were gone.

He was the only one left here.

He was alone.

All alone.

On his own.

Once again.

In some way or another, Malfoy Manor was already waiting for him.

Draco went back to the tent to gather his belongings.

It didn't look like the aurors had searched his stuff – even though they probably had.

Did he mind? That a group of strangers had touched his things? He wasn't sure. People invading his privacy wasn't exactly new to him. It just felt unbelievable that they'd do so without any malice.

Anyway... His stuff... At least there wasn't a lot to pack.

*

He apparated in front of the manor.

No traps. No deadly plants. Just his h... _Malfoy Manor._

Draco sat down at the front steps. Cold stone.

He didn't feel like entering. Of course he couldn't sit here forever, but... he could try.

If there at least had been anything to fight...

While he was fighting, he didn't have to feel anything. Being a hero sounded so much better than being a flawed human being.

He was so tired.

It was a warm night, muggy. It felt like a storm was coming.

After a while he stood up, opened the door, entered the house.

He could go to his room. But this kind of tiredness wouldn't be cured by going to bed.

He could enter his mother's lab, brew a few potions. Not to consume them, just in order to have something to do. He probably would never have to earn any money, but he could sell potions anyway. Wait! Actually, no, he couldn't. Nobody would buy potions from the son of war criminals. Come to think about it, he didn't feel like brewing anything anymore.

What about one of the libraries? Reading a little, forgetting about everything. _A few hours ago you've betrayed your father and his chosen family. How can you be so cold hearted to even consider entering_ his _rooms?_

He was still standing in the hallway.

After a while, he decided to go to the kitchen. Make a cup of tea. Probably just another way to stall for time – but what was wrong with wasting time?

Of course he didn't deserve feeling good, but honestly? Failing had never felt that good anyway.

As he walked through the corridors he wondered, how many days would pass, till he'd meet another human being. He could survive here, growing plants in the garden, doing a little wizardry if necessary. Living in solitude.

The door to the kitchen was ajar.

He stepped over the threshold and froze, one hand on the handle of his bag, one on the door.

The room wasn't deserted.

Pale arms. Tousled blond hair. Bright eyes. An orange skirt with an ever changing pattern of green bats, purple dragons and yellow flames.

Luna. Humming along to the sound of boiling water, pouring a generous amount of herbs into a teapot.

Was he hallucinating? He had just been planning to fix himself some tea to celebrate his future as a hermit... Was his mind joking?

On the other hand, he doubted, his brain would manage to come up with the pattern of her skirt. _Yeah, you totally know your limits, Malfoy. Well done!_

 _Thud!_ He must have let go of his bag. It was lying on the ground, next to his left foot. He didn't bother to pick it up. His glance darted back to Luna. Impossible, highly improbable, unexpected. But it was Luna, so all of that was strangely fitting.

She was here, breathing, moving.

She was turning around, rising her wand.

Their glances met.

"Draco?"

He wondered, if the yellow flames on the skirt were meant to symbolize yet another magical creature Luna believed in.

He wondered, how long she would be willing to put up with him.

He wondered, why it was easier to think than to feel.

And why both feeling and thinking only made him hurt more.

"Draco"

Suddenly he was wrapped in a tight hug.

Maybe it was just because it was the second time someone touched him today, but it felt okay.

Quiet overwhelming, but okay.

"Hey", he whispered. Only that one word. Hopefully she'd understand. There was far too much to say, to say it out loud.

His voice might be as broken as his brain, after all. Not that surprising, really.

She gently let him go to look at him. There was so much excitement in her eyes, and so much joy. Unbelievable.

"We were all so worried", Luna exclaimed, while helping him out of his jacket, "Neville and I and Harry"

Draco found that hard to believe. Luna? Yes, maybe... By now they had probably figured out, that he had spent time with his family and - Well, all of them knew, what Death Eaters were capable of.

But Neville barely knew Draco. And Harry... It was so unlikely that she'd care. Still...

"Is she okay?" He felt his voice break on the third word. Dammit.

"These last few days weren't easy on her, but she'll be alright" He nodded, unable to understand what exactly she was trying to tell him. "Yeah, but, I mean... is she okay?", he repeated.

Luna smiled. "Well... she misses you and is worried out of her mind-"

"I miss her too"

Why was his voice so hoarse? He unsuccessfully tried to clear his throat. Stupid feelings.

"She's here, by the way", Luna slowly added, laying a hand on his shoulder as if she tried to lessen the impact of her words.

"Here? In Malfoy Manor?"

No. Impossible. Why would she be here? There was no way she'd really want to see him. But Luna had claimed, she'd miss him. But Luna was a dreamer, who'd love to romanticise this. No... Harry couldn't be... Or could she?

He wasn't ready. What should he tell her, how could he try to explain the unexplainable? She'd just want him to leave again. Wait... He owned this house. Okay, _she'd_ just leave.

Why was she here in the first place?

He didn't understand.

Was it even legal for her to be here? It was his house and he hadn't her invited to come over... Strictly speaking, it wasn't even his house yet. Or was it? Not important, right now.

He really tried to wrap his head around all of this, but...

"Draco? Are you alright?"

Luna. He had almost forgotten about her. She was still standing beside him. He had just asked her something, hadn't he? What had he wanted to know? Probably something stupid. Couldn't be more stupid than what he would tell Harry anyway. Harry... Where was she? Why wasn't she here with Luna? Probably still angry. But why was she at Malfoy Manor, if she was angry? And how couldn't she be angry?

"Draco? I'll be right back, I just-"

He just needed more time. Maybe he could figure it out and think of something to say. Even though that felt impossible right now...

Something cold pressed against the tender skin of his neck. He flinched. "Draco?" Luna's grey eyes stared into his'.

Had he said something? He wasn't sure. She probably thought, he was crazy. He felt crazy. Was he losing his mind? He started to think about all the possible symptoms. Gosh... there were so many. He was going crazy; how could he try to explain? Hide it, hide it, act normal.

"Draco, I need you to breathe. Nice and steady" Was he breathing strange? Was he breathing wrong? How could one even breathe wrong? It was a bodily function, a reflex. Was it a reflex? He had no idea. He just wanted to hide it, hide, leave. Or maybe Luna should leave. But she wouldn't leave, till she was convinced, that he was okay and he was going crazy and he couldn't hide it, because she was looking at him and she wouldn't stop looking at him, till...

"Okay... Draco, please focus on me for a moment. You don't have to say anything or do anything. Just listen to my voice, okay?" He would mess this up, just like he messed everything up. "- I take – squeeze- you-" He would disappoint them, all of them. Right now, Luna had said something and... she probably hated him as well.

Something touched his right hand. Luna took his hand into hers'.

She would tell Harry about all of this and Harry would never want to see him again. Nobody wanted someone that unstable in their life.

His hand was gently squeezed. Luna. Luna? Yes, Luna, she was still there, that was right and – why was he crying? He didn't want to cry he was a Malfoy he was meant to be strong, he was such a disappointment, he...

"Draco, can you squeeze back, please?"

She wanted him to...? Her hand. Did she mean? She wanted to? His fingers briefly squeezed her hand. "Very good" She squeezed his hand again, a little longer with a little more pressure. He tried to focus, copy what she had just done. "Great" She kept squeezing his hand with varying pressure, patiently waiting for him to reply. Did he reply? He wasn't sure. Body and mind were a strange combination, weren't they? How where they even connected? But she waited and always seemed to say something kind, whenever he reacted.

"sorry", he managed to whisper after a while, "Sorry, sorry"

Luna still held his hand. "It's fine, dear, everything will be alright" He wasn't so sure about that... "How can I help you?", Luna asked, gently.

"don't know" He felt exhausted.

"How about something to drink?" His hands were still shaking, but she helped him, hold a glass of water to his lips, the other hand on his shoulder.

Somehow it really made him feel better.

He looked up and saw the chandelier above them. Judging by the perspective... He was sitting on the floor of the kitchen, wasn't he? He hadn't even realized that he had sat down...

"Sorry", he repeated, "I don't even know what just happened" _Yes you do. Silly little Malfoy was unable to cope with his own little drama. Everything being too much, so pathetic. And now you are lying into her face, lying to the one single person who was just trying to help you. Sounds familiar doesn't it?_

Luna was getting started at shushing him down, but reconsidered. "This wasn't the first time, was it?" He felt the shame inside of his stomach boil up. "Please don't tell Harry"

He forced himself to look at her directly. It almost hurt physically to see the worry and understanding in her eyes, but he couldn't help it. "Don't tell Harry. She mustn't know"

He waited, till she promised it. It was important.

Once she had said it – in a voice so sincere he had to believe her – he allowed himself to relax a little. "Okay, where is Harry?", he asked, while massaging his temples with his fingertips.

"Are you sure you want to talk to her? Now?" Luna sounded as unbelieving as if he had told her, he didn't believe in dragons.

"I have to"

"I don't – she's outside, in the park, but Draco-"

He nodded. He would have to wash his face first, of course and then...

He stood up. She mirrored his movements, followed him to the bathroom.

"Luna, I really appreciated your help, but I don't want to be treated differently, now that you... saw... this" In fact, that was one of his greatest fears. He wanted to be her friend, not someone whom she constantly had to help, not a burden. He was still the same person he always had been, wasn't he? Just because she had learned something new about him... he was still Draco.

Luna blushed, bit her lip and nodded. "I'll wait outside"

Only when he was vigorously splashing water at his face, he realized, that Luna had used the right pronouns. _"_ She' _s here." "_ She's _outside" "_ She _misses you"_

Luna _knew._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading
> 
> By the way: As this Chapter once again means a few changes for our poor Draco - I once again changed the system of Chapter Titles


	19. Pretty complicated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it too late to wish you all Merry Christmas?

He dried his face. He dried his hands. He even dried the tearstains on his shirt. Benefits of magic, huh? Sometimes it was as easy as that – one simple spell and everything went back to normal. Despite all, he was glad, that towels existed. Something real, something normal, something to hold on to.

So ... was he ready?

It felt like he was expecting too much. Even though he wasn't expecting anything at all. At least not consciously.

"Draco, are you okay?", Luna asked through the door.

Right. He wasn't alone, not this time, not yet.

"I will be", he replied, watching the way his expression changed in the mirror.

_You're wasting time. What are you waiting for? She's right there._

"Draco?"

He hurriedly opened the door.

Luna was leaning against the opposite wall.

For a mere second, their eyes met.

In silent agreement, Luna straightened up, carefully taking his hand. It felt like a safety line.

She wordlessly accompanied him to the door.

It had started to rain.

"Do you want me to...?", Luna asked carefully, still holding his hand.

"No, I've got this"

His voice sounded more convinced, than he felt.

He wasn't sure, but he couldn't imagine _not_ meeting Harry alone.

He bit his lip. It was also hard to imagine meeting Harry in general.

What if he was expecting too much? ...

No, he had already thought about it. No expectations. He would be fine.

Luna's eyes searched his face.

"Are you sure?"

He was probably looking a little lost.

"No", Draco replied with a small smile, "But I'm also pretty nervous so... I guess that's just the way it is. Won't get any surer any time soon"

She squeezed his hand.

"Okay. I'll make some tea"

"To get rid of some shady creatures, I reckon?", he deadpanned. Not a very funny joke, even for him.

"To calm me down", Luna replied with a faint smile, "and because it is a cold and rainy night. Though it might help against some fantastic beasts, I suppose"

He stepped outside without turning back.

Wouldn't it be terribly funny, if he'd get lost? Wandering through the garden, till sunrise?

Or if he'd just stay here, next to the door, forever?

As soon, as he tried to look at it realistically, he knew, that he wouldn't.

Even if he'd get lost, he could always just apparate back to the kitchen.

And if he'd just stay here for long enough, Harry would walk past him, anyway.

Of course, he'd do neither of those things.

_He_ would find  _her._

That was the only way.

It was raining lizards and dragons.

He had forgotten to pull on a coat or magically shield himself from rain.

Now, he was drained.

He spent the first few steps regretting his new impulsivity.

Then he stopped walking and thinking.

He heard the rain patter on the path, felt it on his skin.

Everything smelled fresher, when it rained.

He could even taste it in the air.

Somehow, he liked it.

Summer rain.

Not cold, but refreshing.

Washing away all the dust and chaos the last days had left behind.

Draco watched big droplets fall from the verge of a leaf.

He set himself back in motion.

It was still raining lizards and dragons.

It was beautiful.

He was alive.

Nervous and jittery and strangely calm at the same time - but mostly alive.

Draco started to run.

Blood pumping through his veins, a little out of breath.

Alive, so alive.

It almost made him laugh.

Maybe he was crazy.

But in a good way.

Untameably, happily, crazily free.

He saw her from afar, standing on a clearing.

A tall figure, momentarily illuminated by a flash.

Draco slowed down.

Harry Potter.

Standing on a dark clearing between dangerous plants – in midst of a thunderstorm. Turning her back towards him, staring into the dark.

If she had been anyone else, he'd have thought her to be terribly theatrical.

But Harry didn't seek the limelight. If anything, the spotlight sought her out. She was the born protagonist. The chosen one.

While he was carefully approaching her, he saw more and more of her.

How could she be so familiar to him?

Just based on the way she was holding her head, he knew, she was lost in thought.

For a second he wondered, if he really should disturb her.

Then the realization: He had to. Luna was making tea. And even if Harry might not be happy to see him... _Merlin!_ She wasn't even wearing a coat. It would be irresponsible _not_ to disturb her.

He was still nervous, but in another way than before.

Small blessings.

"Hey", Draco softly called out.

She immediately turned, pointing her wand at him.

Still the reflexes of a warrior. Ever the fighter. Which after everything that had happened, was equally disturbing and impressive.

"Uhm... it's just me. Draco. Please don't kill me", he added hastily.

A small light popped up on the tip of her wand.

"Draco", Harry said, "glad to see you again"

There was something in her voice. Something very unusual for her...

It took him a while to put his finger on it.

She sounded much too polite and cold.

With one fluent motion she lowered her wand and turned back towards the dark she had faced before.

Draco took it as an invite to come closer.

Step for step, until they were almost standing shoulder by shoulder.

He had heard people say, communication was all about different perspectives. Well, here he was, standing by her side, staring into the darkness.

There was absolutely nothing to be seen.

Which probably meant, she just didn't want to look at him.

"For how long have I been gone?", Draco asked. Better get it out of the way, right now. _Come on, she didn't even care. She's probably didn't even notice._ But Luna had said...

He pushed the thoughts away; all of them. They weren't the real thing.

"Nope, that's not a question I'll be answering" She didn't bother to turn around.

"Why not?" He sounded weirdly defensive, didn't he? Luna had said, all of them had been worried. Maybe that had been gravely exaggerated. _Stop overanalysing, Malfoy._

"Because it has been _too long_ , Draco Malfoy. Do you have any idea...?!"

About what? What did she mean?

"Are you... angry?" She sounded angry.

"Of course I'm not angry!"

But... He had no idea how to feel about that. Apparently today wasn't a feel good day for anyone. And he was the reason for all of it. Fantastic.

"Are you lying at me?" _Blunt. But realistic. Congratulations, Malfoy, finally a reasonable outlook on the world. Disappointments and lies everywhere._

Maybe he should apologize. Or battle down the negative emotions. _As if you were really able to fix anything._ So he just waited silently.

Finally, she turned. "Yeah, well, maybe actually I am lying and I am angry!"

_You see? Disappointments and lies._ Somehow he was relieved. 

"Honestly, I kind of hate you right now", Harry added with the tiniest smile.

"I guess, that's fair", Draco said.

For a while they were silently standing next to each other.

"I missed your smile", Draco mumbled, when he got the impression, it was his turn to say... something. A simple truth.

She wasn't smiling right now, but from this close, it was easier to imagine, than from afar. Why was he tearing up? He proceeded to blink vigorously. Damn it! At least it was raining, she probably wouldn’t be able to tell.

"Why?"

Good question, Harry. What was he supposed to answer? He must have forgotten, how to socialize. How did one make someone else smile? By being charming, by joking, by being funny. Somehow, all of the elegant words were gone. All there was left were blunt truths.

"Because I like your smile", he replied softly.

"There isn't anything special about it", Harry stated calmly. Were they actually arguing about that right now? He was a little, pretty, very exhausted. Maybe his stupid brain was making this up.

"It is beautiful"

"It is just muscles contracting and relaxing, skin moving and teeth showing. It's just my face"

Draco couldn't help looking at her. Muscles and skin and bones. And still so much more than that.

_I missed you_ , he wanted to say. 

_I'm doubting everything I ever learned_ , he wanted to confess _, and I have no idea how to go on. I might have lost myself. But something about you makes me feel, like that’s alright._

_You are beautiful_ , he wanted to assure her,  _it isn't just your face, never has been, never will be. Even if this night was too dark to see anything at all, I knew, you were as beautiful as ever._

He wanted to hold her hand.

He wanted to touch her cheek with his fingertips, wanted to nudge the corners of her mouth, wanted to make her smile.

He wanted to say so many stupid things, and do so many stupid things; things that might ruin everything. And a small, brave part of him wondered, what would happen, if... Maybe, just maybe...

"You're a tough one, Potter", he said defeated.

"Well, you're pretty complicated, too", she answered. Somehow she managed to make it sound like a compliment.

Once again he was at a loss for words.

She was looking at him, wasn't she? He checked. Yes, she was looking at him.

Was he looking weird?

It was raining.

By now, he must be looking like a wet rat. Or a ferret.

Definitely not as adorable as her.

There had to be a law against curly dark hair and blushed cheeks.

"Luna is making us some tea", he finally managed to croak out.

"The _let's-have-a-cup_ kind or the _let's-have-a-cup-and-try-to-predict-the-future-based-on-a-few-leafs_ kind of tea?", Harry said without missing a beat.

It made him smile.

A sheepish looking ferret, in a conversation with a gorgeous human being. So unlikely! It almost sounded like a fairy-tale.

"Not the _let's-have-a-cup-and-try-to-predict-the-_ kind... whatever the rest of that was. Just usual _cosy feel-good_ tea" He was rambling again. Great. Just say something quick and witty, so she doesn't think about the rest. "So ... the first thing you think of, when someone offers you some tea is Divination? That's interesting. Some would even say, it's oddly specific" _Way to ruin a conversation, ferret._

"Maybe? Trelawney might have ruined that experience for me."

He thought of the rumours he had heard. About perfume, scarfs and a lot of darkness and death.

"To be fair, she wasn't that wrong, was she?"

She shrugged.

"Yeah, that probably was the worst part of it"

They laughed. He wasn't even sure, why.

It was such a relief to be here, to talk to her again. To hear her laugh. The most beautiful sound in the world.

When they calmed down, her eyes finally met his'.

Green, lively and a little blurred behind that pair of glasses.

The most unsettling and at the same time most calming thing he had seen in a while.

"Okay, fine", Harry said, "Let's go inside and face the incredible challenge of drinking Luna's tea."

There probably was a story behind that...

Draco couldn't wait to find out about it.

For now, he was walking her back to the house, talking about dangerous flora, trying to be funny. Either it worked, or she laughed anyway. Or maybe she was laughing at him. But there was no malice in her eyes, just sparkling joy...

Even though he couldn't help feeling a bit insecure, when he formerly invited her in... he found himself smiling more and more.

Although the manor wasn't welcoming, it had always been an interesting place.

It was the first time he could present it to someone he cared for. So could one blame him, when Harry's polite questions lead to an enthusiastic tour through the corridors leading up to the kitchen? Probably.

He introduced her to the portraits of two Malfoys (who were both very upset for being woken up "so rudely"), showed her the secret corridor behind the statue of Salazar Slytherin ("at least there is no snake", Harry mumbled almost inaudibly) and barely refrained from telling her all about playing hide and seek with his nanny. He stumbled over the edge of a carpet, held on to Harry for support, knew, he was blushing and laughed.

He definitely was too enthusiastic – but he didn't care.

Despite the whole situation being awkward, it didn't feel awkward.

Those long corridors definitely were too short.

When they entered the kitchen, Luna was making a ridiculous amount of sandwiches.

Without turning, she made a pointy movement with her wand. A heap of towels flew their way.

"Hey, no", Harry protested laughing, while she unsuccessfully tried to beat them away.

In the end both Draco and Harry were wrapped up and cosy.

"So you know, where our towels are?", Draco asked. It sounded a little more defensive and a little less amused, than it had in his mind.

Luna didn't seem to mind. She was willing the table to set itself, humming a song and looking like she hadn't heard him at all.

"We haven't searched the manor", Harry replied instead, "If that's what you're asking. We made a quick tour through it, to make sure, you weren't here. And when we knew that much, we basically lived in this kitchen and the living room next door"

He watched her take a seat. Moderately gracefully, considering she was still embraced by half a dozen towels.

He really should stop looking and start listening.

"It's a salon", he corrected automatically. Now, that he was thinking about them, he was far too immersed in the rest of Harry's words, to really mind.

A quick tour? Through Malfoy Manor. That sounded like a very dangerous idea. He genuinely hoped, they hadn't been attacked by the furniture.

Thinking about furniture... He quickly placed himself on the chair next to Harry.

"Sorry?", Harry said.

It took him a second to realize, she wasn't referring to the sitting arrangement.

"Living room implies, that anyone ever _lived_ there. It's a salon. A place to welcome visitors and brag about the family's wealth"

He could only hope, that his voice conveyed his annoyance over the usual purpose of the room.

"It's a living room now" Harry smiled.

Tuning a grim salon into a living room? Simply by living in it? It sounded almost too perfect. Maybe the same principle applied to a person's life? Inviting other people in, letting them live in one's heart could make all the difference.

Or maybe he was just getting a little sappy.

Luna finally sat down next to them.

She immediately reached over to offer them tea.

"Chamomile", she said with a pointed look towards both Draco and Harry.

Plain, calming and nice.

Harry accepted her mug with a smile. "Glad you went back to a normal sort"

"You mean opposed to the concentration benefitting kind I made last time?" A slight blush started to spread over Luna's face, "The leafs were a present by Neville. He got them from an Italian wizard he met at the International Congress of Herbologists and Potion Brewers", she added, turning to Draco, "That's where he currently is"

Draco tried to imagine Neville at a congress. Impeccably dressed in a suit and cloak, looking serious and secretly searching for an item he had lost. - Not a plant, of course, Neville would never leave a plant behind.

He wondered, if Neville had overcome his fear of potion masters. Maybe he had only ever been afraid of Professor Snape. Or – more amusingly – he was taking part at a congress with people he admired and people he feared, talking about a topic he loved and a topic he hated.

Love and hate could be so close.

Growing plants and using plants.

Some people were able to do both.

His mother.

She only planted a seed, if she knew what she'd harvest would be worth it.

No effort, unless there was a benefit.

He was being stupid.

Most gardeners didn't grow plants just for the fun of it.

Gardening wasn't inherently goods and potion brewing wasn't inherently bad.

But if everything was neutral, what did that say about his family?

Nothing made any sense.

It was his own fault.

He was thinking too fast.

He needed to slow down.

Why was thinking slowly better?

Was that the way, brains worked?

How did brains work anyway?

Someone touched his hand.

Luna.

She must have realized he was zoning out.

"... the only thing I could concentrate on, was that taste", Harry said. She hadn't noticed. Good.

Draco blinked.

"So it worked", Luna replied, her fingers still lightly brushing over Draco's hand, grounding him.

He was here, in the present.

A cup of chamomile in his hand, a pyramid of sandwiches in front of him, his two best friends by his side.

Draco took a sip of his tea.

So warm.

He raised his head, trying to convey with his eyes, what he didn't want to say out loud: _Thank you_.

"I sent a few owls, while you were outside", Luna stated, when he had placed his mug back on the table, "Just to make sure" Her face hat taken on a strange expression that kept Draco from questioning her words.

Harry softly thanked her.

After that they avoided all heavier subjects.

For the time being, they could pretend Azkaban, Death Eaters, solo quests, coming outs or intolerance didn't exist.

It felt fantastic.

The conversation flowed easily from fantastic beasts and dangerous creatures to nostalgia to quidditch.

For a while, Harry and him argued over the best teams, before Luna loudly started theorizing about the impact of drinking pumpkin juice on the final score of a match.

Draco's eyes kept drifting towards Harry. She just looked so soft and warm and nice, her hair a slowly drying, tousled mess, her eyes sparkling.

They talked and laughed and listened and ate sandwiches and drank tea - for hours.

Draco only realized, just how late it had gotten, when Harry fell asleep; her head resting on his shoulder.

"She hasn't slept a lot those last few days", Luna told him in a hushed voice, "I believe she thought she had to stay alert"

Once again, he felt a pang of guilt boil through his veins.

"She shouldn't have", Draco exclaimed, a little too loudly.

He just managed to catch Harry, who had briefly been startled, before immediately falling back asleep.

Now she was resting in his arms, snuggled against his chest.

Luna smiled, picking up Harry's pair of glasses from the ground.

Her fingers trailed a new crack in the right glass.

"You can't always choose, which people you care for"

Draco watched her repair the item. She gently placed it on the table.

"Sometimes all you can do is wait and offer your help. Even if you are rejected every time. Even if it hurts"

For a moment he wondered, who she was talking about.

Her father?

Neville?

But why would she address that in front of Draco?

Well... Because she wasn't talking about them.

"I'm not that important"

She laughed softly and took his hand.

"Of course you are", Luna said, a sad smile blooming on her face, "To me and to Harry. One of the most important people of all"

He didn't know, what to say.

Luna... and Harry.

One awake, one asleep.

One as pale as the moon, one as dark haired as the night.

One wearing her heart on the palm of her hand for everyone to judge, one hiding her feelings to anyone but her closest friends.

One who had always been his friend, one who had once been his greatest enemy.

One was rapidly becoming his best friend again – and the other... was _**the one**_. _His_ one, if she'd ever wanted to be his'.

"You know, I'm worried for you", Luna softly added, "Because you don't seem to realize, that you don't have to go through all of this alone"

But he was hiding it well, wasn't he? He had only slipped up today.

Then again, Luna tended to be a very good observer.

They had spent many years at the same school.

Even when they had officially ended their friendship, he had always kept an eye out for her. Slowly he began to realize, that she might have done the same thing.

Small glances in the hallways.

Hidden smiles, when no one else seemed to notice him.

Maybe all of that had been more than general kindness.

"You really shouldn't...", Draco stumbled over his own words.

"But I do. Not only for you, either, if that makes you feel better"

Both of their gazes trailed to Harry's sleeping form, looking so young and fragile.

"Not only for her", Luna said, "even though I do. Society can be terribly narrow minded and that's not a situation anyone should ever be in. There also are Ron and Hermione"

Draco internally prepared to object.

Luna smiled at him, rising a hand, as if she knew, what he was feeling

"Or at least I feel sorry for them. They are so close to losing their best friend.", she specified gently, "It somehow makes me worry for society itself. So many people are missing out on so many potential best friends..."

"You worry a lot", Draco commented, "is it worth it?"

Maybe he should be worried for her.

"Well... I can't help it"

Luna seemed to think about it for a while.

"I guess it is a part of caring for others. - And I can't imagine not caring. I can't protect everyone I love, but every time I realize how much I can lose, I realize how much I truly have. And after everything that has happened, that's a miracle. So ... I am glad that I have the privilege to worry. Does that make any sense?"

Draco thought about everything he had already lost.

And about everything he had won.

"But as everyone is different, there are different ways to deal with worrying for someone", Luna added, "Some people try to distract themselves, some stay up all night so they won't miss any news and others are out there looking for a fight"

Draco gulped.

Luna definitely knew him too well.

"That's a very deep conversation to have in the middle of the night", he finally whispered. He couldn't even look at her.

Once again Luna took his hand. "I'm sorry", she said.

Draco removed his hand from her grip. She didn't have to feel sorry.

"You should try to get some sleep. Tomorrow – or today, to be more precise - will hold a lot of questions", Luna stated.

A lot of questions? Probably most of them about the past days. Or weeks. Or months. - He still wasn't sure how much time had passed.

He wasn't too surprised about the prospect of an interrogation. It was only fair – especially, as he himself had a lot of unanswered questions to ask.

Luna rose to her feet. "I better get going"

He felt like he was missing something essential. " _Where_ are you going?"

"Well, as you are here now, I'll apparate home" _Oh._ "Do you need some help with..."

She gesticulated towards Harry's sleeping body, which was still leaning against his chest.

"I think I can handle that just fine", Draco said way more confidently than he felt.

If Luna wanted to leave, he wouldn't hinder her.

"Okay. See you tomorrow", Luna replied.

He said goodbye to her and watched her leave.

Harry was still sleeping.

Though nothing about their positioning had changed, it felt far more intimate now. The kitchen was quieter without Luna. There was more room to think, more room to admire.

It had been a very long day.

So many feelings, so many changes.

He tried to imagine his parents in Azkaban. Had they been given separate cells? Or had the aurors decided, forcing them to spend time together would be crueller?

He wondered, in how far the prison would change them.

Would it break them?

Did he want that?

They might get even more radical views.

Suddenly he realized, he might never see them again.

It shouldn't have felt as impactful as it did. He had walked away before, thinking it would be the last time he'd see them.

This time something was different. It was a difference of dreading to coincidentally cross paths and knowing that would never happen.

It would be his decision if he ever wanted to meet them or not.

He was free.

And despite being free, he wasn’t - didn’t have to be - alone.

Wasn't it unbelievable, how someone could trust him enough to fall asleep next to him?

To lean onto his chest?

To hold on to his arm?

Harry was the most amazing person he had ever met.

And Luna probably the most perceptive one.

He really had to get to know Neville a lot more.

He should go to bed.

It was pretty simple to transport a body from one room to another.

At least for a magician.

However, he'd have to aim correctly.

As soon as he internally prepared to stand up, Harry stirred.

"Hey", she mumbled sleepily. She squeezed her eyes as if she tried to focus on his face. Because of the light? Or her poor eyesight? Or both?

"Hey", Draco said.

"Why're we 'n the kitch'n?"

"Because that's where you fell asleep"

"Hmm... The couch is comfier"

"You might be the first person who ever called any of our furniture comfortable"

He half dragged, half carried her to the living room and helped her lay down on _the couch_.

A levitation spell might have been more effective. But he would have had to let go of her hand.

"Can you stay with me?", Harry whispered barely audibly.

She fell back asleep, before he could reply, but he stayed anyway.

Of course, he wasn't going to watch her sleep.

That would have been creepy.

She just happened to be sleeping in front of him.

Still wrapped up in towels, still fully dressed. This couldn't be comfortable...

He sighed and went upstairs to at least fetch her a blanket.

While he tucked her in, he wondered, if Luna would always leave in the evening.

He'd prepare her a room anyway. And he'd clean up one for Harry. He didn't want her to ruin her back by sleeping on the coach.

He was probably getting ahead of himself – they hadn't even spoken about any plans for the next few days. But somehow it felt like the sensible thing to do.

Especially as he didn't feel like letting go anytime soon.

  
  


As he was falling asleep on an armchair, Draco couldn't help but smile.

Maybe they'd be alright.


End file.
